


Biting Snake Isn't Better Than Knife In Your Back

by Damatris



Series: A song you know's begun [5]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Anxiety, Canon-Typical Violence, Depression, Dissociation, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Feral Jaskier | Dandelion, First Kiss, Geralt does his best, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Uses His Words, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Whump, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia is Bad at Feelings, Hurt Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Hurt Jaskier | Dandelion, Hurt/Comfort, Implied threat of rape, Jaskier | Dandelion Whump, M/M, Mutual Pining, Non-Consensual Touching, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Not Geralt's, Panic Attacks, Pining, Possessive Behavior, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Protective Jaskier | Dandelion, Psychological Trauma, Realistic trauma recovery, Roach is the Best (The Witcher), Slow Burn, Talk about prostitution but not happening, Touch Aversion, Trauma, Trauma Recovery, When things are soft things are Very Soft and Tender, crossing personal boundaries, involuntarily distorted eating due to depression, it's hard to be a bard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:09:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 90
Words: 280,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23246803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Damatris/pseuds/Damatris
Summary: There was something ugly churning in Geralt's gut watching all those nobles flock around Jaskier. Fawning, complimenting, flirting.Jaskier should be thriving and preening from all the attention. Instead there was something uncomfortable and pinched in his expression, skillfully masked behind playful smiles and bright laughs.Geralt didn't want to contemplate why he, and only he, noticed the bard's wish to run.(works also as a stand alone fic)
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: A song you know's begun [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1660609
Comments: 2625
Kudos: 1832





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Previous stories don't have to be read for this.

After months of visiting backwater villages and traveling the wilderness Geralt and Jaskier had finally entered an actual city. One of them was beyond excited. One of them dreamed about turning on his heels and returning to where they came. But they were here for a reason so Geralt reined in his desire and followed Jaskier who was navigating the streets with happy chatter. 

Jaskier led them to a respectable looking inn, telling how he had stayed there before. Apparently the lady keeping it adored him. Geralt wasn't sure if he believed it. 

With noncommittal grunt he agreed to staying there and continued to the stables belonging to it to get Roach settled while Jaskier waltzed inside. Leaving the mare to her veritable feast, Geralt tossed an extra coin to the stable boy to ensure she would get the best possible care.

Entering the inn he immediately spotted Jaskier sitting at a corner table two ales in front of him, eagerly staring at the door. 

"I bargained us a free room for as long as we're staying. And meals for myself. I just need to play each day in exchange," Jaskier said proudly as soon as Geralt sat down. "Told you the lady of the house loves me!" 

"Hmmm" was the eloquent answer as Geralt reached for an ale. 

"And! I'm well-known around here so there will be a good crowd coming just to see me," Jaskier appeared to be beyond thrilled. 

"People here must have a poor taste then," Geralt stated, taking a long drink, finding himself pleased with the taste. It had been some time since he had good ale. 

"How dare you!" the bard exclaimed in mock offense placing a hand against his heart. "I know you enjoyed hearing me play after the break I was forced to take." 

"No, I didn't. It only gave me a respite from your nonstop talking," Geralt hid his twitching lips behind the tankard. He would never admit having been relieved to hear the lute again when Jaskier's hand healed enough for him to start playing. 

A serving girl interrupted them for a moment, placing steaming bowls of soup and fresh bread on the table. 

"It's on me. Seemed only fair since I don't have to pay for mine," Jaskier gestured to Geralt's meal. 

"Thanks," Geralt glanced at him digging in. It was even better than the beer. 

Soon, Jaskier was taking his lute out and sashayed to the center of the inn. Stomping thrice he gathered everyone's attention. 

"Greetings gentlemen and fair ladies! I am the bard Jaskier and I'm here to fill your evening with good cheer and excitement through thrilling tales of bravery against the most horrible of monsters as well as moving stories of sweet love and yearning," with an extravagant bow Jaskier finished his introduction and launched into his first song. 

Geralt watched as Jaskier danced around the tables, leading his audience to join the choruses of some of the best known songs and slowing his movements during sweet ballads and the most thrilling parts of the tales describing the Witcher's hunts. 

The bard was in his element, interacting with his captivated audience, practically glowing with happiness and pure joy of performing. As the evening turned into night the crowd grew and Jaskier didn't show any signs of tiring except taking a few breaks to drink something, exchanging words and pocketing coins. None of the drinks he had to pay for, appreciative listeners supplying them. 

After many hours he collapsed in his chair next to Geralt with a wide smile and sweat on his brow. 

"Fancy seeing you still here! Didn't feel like running to our room to bask in its solitude this time?" the bard chuckled. "Or did you enjoy my performance too much to leave?" 

"They have good ale here," Geralt lifted his tankard for emphasis. 

"Sure!" Jaskier grinned. "That's obviously the only reason. Nothing to do with excellent entertainment." 

"Where's the humble bard now?" 

"Alas, he exists only in songs," Jaskier sighed. "Thankfully the one sitting next to you is much better company." 

"Maybe if he knew how to shut up." 

"Your words are like arrows through my fragile heart. What if you break it?" there was something lurking in Jaskier's eyes while his mischievous smile stayed unchanged. 

"You do it to yourself all the time," Geralt huffed thinking about all the people Jaskier had lamented over. 

"I keep doing that, don't I…" Jaskier agreed, trailing off watching Geralt take yet another gulp of his ale. "I truly have talent for love not meant to be. Good for songwriting yet sometimes I do wish I had more joyous muse for such ballads." 

"Stop falling in love with everyone you see then. Problem solved." 

"Ah, my dear Witcher! If only a man's heart was so simple to control," Jaskier said with a fading smile. "Such a feat would save one from much pain." 

"Well! It's getting late and I'm beat. I can hear sleep calling my name," the bard suddenly clapped his hands, changing the topic. "You staying here to nurse your drink or coming too?" 

"You go ahead. I'll come up after a while," Geralt decided. 

His eyes lingered on Jaskier's retreating back as he headed to their room. 

The next morning arrived bringing beautiful sunshine with it, making Jaskier drag his blanket over his head to block it out. He wasn't ready to get up. It had been months since he had slept in such a comfortable bed and he was going to enjoy every possible minute of it. 

There was rustling and something poked him none too gently. 

"Get up." 

"Mmphh" No, he wouldn't. 

"Up!" 

Jaskier's blanket was cruelly ripped off, leaving him without a barrier against the traitorous sun that had shown itself after days of cloudy weather. Squinting one eye open he saw Geralt fully dressed and ready balling up the blanket and throwing it away from the bed. 

"Geraaaalt, give it back. I'm tired," Jaskier whined. The Witcher could be so inconsiderate. 

"We have errands and I want to avoid the rush hours at the market," Geralt stared Jaskier down, daring the bard to disagree. 

"You're so terribly antisocial. Go alone then. Shoo!" 

"No. You'll later demand me to join when you're feeling ready to go. I'm not doing it twice." 

"...Fine. Give me fifteen minutes and I'll meet you for breakfast. I absolutely refuse to go before eating," Jaskier caved. 

Dressing in almost the last clean attire he had, Jaskier gathered the others to get them properly washed. Cleaning them himself with the limited resources did keep them acceptable but there was only so much he could do. And a lot of the fabrics didn't make it any easier. He refused to change his style even if it was admittedly quite impractical for constant traveling. 

He had just ordered breakfast and handed his laundry to the barmaid working the morning shift when the front door opened and two soldiers stepped in silencing everyone. Searching eyes landed on Jaskier and they walked towards him. 

This wasn't the way he had thought his day would begin. 

"What can I do for you gentlemen?" Jaskier asked warily, spotting the local king's emblem on their chest. 

"King Marden requests your attendance at the feast he's hosting tonight. After hearing you're in town he has decided to hire you for entertainment," older one of the soldiers stated. 

Oh. Jaskier really hadn't thought this would be how his morning would go. But out of all the possible scenarios seeing the soldiers approach him this was definitely the best outcome. 

"I'd be honored to perform for the king!" Jaskier exclaimed, feeling giddy. "I had no idea my reputation had spread even to the nobility of this fine city." 

By then Geralt had made his way to stand behind Jaskier, silently staring at the soldiers. 

"Can my companion also attend? Sadly he does lack the musical talent but…" Jaskier asked, glancing at the Witcher. 

For a brief moment the soldiers held a whispered conversation. 

"King Marden didn't forbid you from bringing someone. But there's a very real chance he will be denied entry," the older one drawled in a completely different tone from before looking Geralt over. 

Younger of the soldiers gave an overview of the practical aspect of the arrangement before handing Jaskier a small purse."The king wants to make sure you'll look presentable in his company." 

Peeking inside it Jaskier saw a nice amount of coins, clearly meant to buy him a set of high end clothing. After thanking them he watched the soldiers leave and the hush that had fallen over the room finally broke. 

"Will you be so kind as to come to the feast with me?" Jaskier asked, turning to face the frowning Witcher. 

"I will not," Geralt growled.

A few hours later he found himself doing exactly that. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story got out of control and is now keeping me and characters hostage.
> 
> Btw, if at any point you think I've missed a tag please let me know and I'll add it!


	2. Chapter 2

"I feel bad for Rena, the owner of the inn, for not being able to play. We struck the deal just yesterday, yet here I am. Not that she was hurt, wished me good luck and all, when I explained and paid her for the night," Jaskier chattered to the rest of the musicians idling around the stage. "Such a lovely old lady, inside and out."

They had just finished their emergency rehearsal to include him into their performance for the evening. If Jaskier had been prone to feeling self-conscious, he would have wanted to flee at the awkwardness and borderline hostility he had received. Having another bard joining them at the last possible moment, usurping the spotlight in one fell swoop at that, was more than enough to place him in a precarious footing with the rest.

Not that anyone vocally complained.

What the king wants, the king gets. 

"Yes, yes. You're adored, we get it. No reason to rub it in," Beren, their lead who Jaskier had practically replaced, sneered. "Why not shut up and save your voice?" 

"Sadly that's the one skill I never learned," Jaskier sighed with mock sadness more than used to such remarks. Traveling with Geralt was good practice.

Making sure he wouldn't wrinkle his brand new beautifully embroidered purple and red silk clothing Jaskier sat on the edge idly plucking at his lute wondering if the Witcher would show up. They had acquired Geralt a suitable set of clothing so Jaskier was sure he would at least try. Otherwise Geralt wouldn't have gone through the hassle. But like the soldier had warned, there was a chance he wouldn't be let in. 

Last of the preparations for the feast were starting to finish and the hubbub was calming down. The grand hall was decorated with colorful streamers and large bouquets of sweet-smelling flowers, open doors leading to the garden. It was beautiful. Jaskier might be almost completely unfamiliar with king Marden but clearly he had good taste. Or wisdom to listen to someone who did. 

One of the servants walked over to them, informing guests would start to arrive within minutes. Standing up Jaskier straightened his clothes and turned to his fellow musicians. 

"Time to welcome them in then!" with that they began the first song of the evening. 

In groups and pairs the nobles arrived and the hall was filled with conversations mingling with the mellow tunes creating a familiar atmosphere. Without noticing a nostalgic smile sneaked on Jaskier's lips as he played, sharp eyes seeking for familiar white hair. 

Jaskier was starting to think the Witcher had indeed been stopped at the gates when he stepped in with the last trickle of guests. He felt like calling out a greeting but that would be extremely unprofessional so Jaskier simply flashed a radiant smile when their eyes met. Ah, Geralt looked so uncomfortable among the socializing humans. It was quite endearing seeing him so out of his element. And he was doing it solely for Jaskier's sake. 

With a quick glance at the other members of the band they changed the tune to give the nobles a warning to halt their talks and focus on the arrival of the king and queen.

As planned, a hush fell over the hall and the doors opened to present the royal couple. As they walked to the high table to take their seats everyone bowed and curtsied as they passed. Only Geralt got singled out with his bow that could just barely be called that. He received a glance from the king but Jaskier couldn't make out his expression from the angle they were situated. Hopefully it wasn't anger. Jaskier knew nobles who got offended if they thought someone breathed wrong. 

"Welcome my esteemed guests! Welcome to celebrate this beautiful evening, for one doesn't need a true reason to enjoy fine food and finer company," the king started his speech. 

One of the rulers who enjoyed revelry and privileges of high status then, Jaskier thought, trying to gauge more information about his current employer. It always helped with delivering the most pleasing performances. 

King Marden continued for a little while longer before allowing his guests to return to their activities.

The feast was… unremarkable. In the sense that it was very similar to all the other such gatherings Jaskier had attended. Oh, it was grand. Food piled high and wine flowing almost faster than the guests could drink. There was laughter and dancing, kisses far too passionate for the public and others making crude jokes about them. People drunk on both alcohol and atmosphere. Even the hosts had deigned to leave their table to join the party. 

Geralt stuck out like a sore thumb.

He was standing in a corner, holding a drink with a vaguely disgusted look. A few brave souls had tried to engage him in conversation but were soon retreating to safety of the crowd. Jaskier had a pretty good idea what Geralt had said to make them figuratively run away. 

"Bard!" the king shouted, silencing everyone. 

"Sing us about the White Wolf!" King Marden was staring right at Geralt as if daring him to do something. 

"Yes your majesty," Jaskier bowed, quickly shifting through the songs he had written before deciding. The band stopped playing with carefully blank faces. 

"As the White Wolf walked

On a hill so high.

Little did he know

The doom was nigh

His sword wasn't slow

As fiends dropped from above

His silver blade sang

Air filled with bloody tang…"

It was one of his newest songs, to make sure to captivate with its novelty even those who might be familiar with his repertoire. 

After the first one he got request after request, some even knowing titles of the songs. Rest of the musicians decided to take a break and left the stage, not needed for now. The dirty looks thrown at him didn't escape Jaskier. Their reaction was justified, he thought, no one wants to be upstaged by some last minute addition. Didn't keep him from enjoying the situation though. 

After a long while king Marden called him to stop. Jaskier stepped down from the stage and the original group returned to it looking more pleased than he had seen them the whole night.

Exchanging pleasantries with the guests and basking in the compliments Jaskier poured himself a drink and gravitated towards Geralt. 

"Having fun?" he asked, already knowing the answer. 

"No," Geralt confirmed that hunch. "I'm regretting ever coming here. I can't see why these appeal to you." 

"Some of us actually enjoy socializing, you hermit. What better place to find it?" Jaskier teased him, gesturing with his wine glass. "Free food and drink. Beautiful women and handsome men. And I'm getting paid." 

"Maybe you'd have more fun if you deigned to ask a lady to dance with you or, heaven forbid, talked to someone. It's a tall order, I know, but you might actually find this more interesting." 

A glower and a grunt was the only response Jaskier gained, making him laugh. Geralt could be so predictable. 

"I already said it but thank you. For coming here with me." Jaskier calmed down and offered Geralt a soft warm smile. "It means a lot to me." 

A huff. Then "You're welcome." 

Geralt looked like he wanted to say something else but they were interrupted by king Marden himself.

"Your majesty!" Jaskier exclaimed while Geralt gave a nod. "What can I do for you?" 

"I find it important to talk to all my guests, no matter how briefly," Marden explained. "Tell me, are your songs about the Witcher true?" 

"They aren't," Geralt interrupted before Jaskier could say anything. 

"Yes they are! I have witnessed everything I sing about with my own eyes. You just don't understand the art that goes into spinning such an event into a song," Jaskier defended himself.

Marden looked amused at the brief disagreement about the origins of the songs. "It's true you're shadowing the Witcher then?" 

"Yes, we've been traveling together for a while now. It's truly a unique opportunity," Jaskier didn't like very much how the king was talking about Geralt as if he wasn't standing right there. Not the worst reaction to the Witcher he had seen by far but still irksome. King or no king. 

"Interesting. I've never before heard about a Witcher that tolerates human company for long," the king was finally looking at Geralt. "I wonder which one of you is the exception." 

"Hmmm," the Witcher in question didn't appear thrilled about the current conversation. 

"Bard, Jaskier wasn't it, would you join me for a walk? I'd like to hear more about your experiences as a Witcher's… companion," Marden politely asked already herding Jaskier away from Geralt with a hand between the bard's shoulder blades. 

"I'd be honored, your majesty," Jaskier answered, stealing a look at Geralt who stayed still and silent, only crossing his arms in displeasure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This keeps getting longer. Again.
> 
> Btw, you can actually sing that song to a simple tune!


	3. Chapter 3

"Isn't it beautiful?" king Marden asked as they stepped among the fragrant greenery. "I've had plenty of species imported from all over the world. Even had a sorceress enchant a few to make sure they will thrive. I doubt there are many other gardens like mine."

It was gorgeous, leaving no doubt why the king sounded so proud. Paths made from different colored gravel for easier navigation wound around trees, flowers, and ponds. All arranged to compliment each other, illuminated with lanterns.

"Yes your majesty. It's a lovely place, full of beauty and wonder behind every bend," Jaskier agreed looking around. "It's been long since I've visited anywhere even close to this."

"No need to be so formal Jaskier," Marden gave a lazy smile. "There's no one here to scold you for a breach of etiquette."

"As you wish," Jaskier nodded, feeling vaguely uncomfortable walking next to him, not sure where they were heading. Nobility he was used to but taking a stroll in a garden with a king… That was a first.

"Gardens and arts. Those are the two things I hold dear to my heart," Marden continued, taking yet another path. "Concept of beauty has always fascinated me. As a bard I'm sure you agree."

"I would be a horrible poet if I didn't search for beauty wherever I can," Jaskier smiled. "Sometimes you find it in the most unexpected places if you only look."

"Tell me Jaskier, do you find the Witcher beautiful?"

"Excuse me?" the bard blanched, completely thrown.

"Your songs. So many of them tell about him. I cannot imagine you would sacrifice a second thought if you didn't see something worthy of it," Marden stared at him, searching for something on Jaskier's face. "So I ask you again, do you find the Witcher beautiful?"

"I… find him remarkable," Jaskier slowly said. Why was he suddenly talking about Geralt's attractiveness with the king? It felt surreal. "Few can do what Geralt achieves."

"Geralt of Rivia, the White Wolf and the Butcher of Blaviken. What is he really like? Songs are made for entertainment and too short for details," the king was still looking at him intently. "Why would a man like you suffer the wilderness and a Witcher's company?"

The only suffering Jaskier felt was caused by his lovesick heart. Fuck Marden.

"I don't view any part of traveling with him as a hardship. Geralt can be a bit coarse and terrible at gatherings like this. But honestly, he's enjoyable company and extremely dependable. I've lost count how many times he has saved me. Friend of humanity and all that," Jaskier made sure he sounded perfectly cordial and not offended in the least. He wanted to kick the king's knee.

"Is that why you stay with him? For safety?"

"No, that's not it."

"There's better ways to achieve it," Marden continued.

Dear Melitele, was Marden actively ignoring what he was saying? Or was the king seriously that obtuse?

"Patronage for one."

A what now?

"Are you offering to become my patron?" Jaskier asked with confusion. Again his day continued to careen towards things he had most definitely not expected.

"I am considering it. You're a pleasant man Jaskier and as I said, I'm fascinated with beauty. I can see that in you and your music," the king said stepping closer.

"I, uh, ummm, thank you for the offer your majesty," Jaskier stammered inching away. "But most of my fellow musicians stay in one place after getting patronage. I'm, uh, not ready to settle down. Too much to see and do and… I'll just go. Now. Forgot to check on Roach. The horse, not a fish. That'd be weird."

A hand shot out and clamped around Jaskier's bicep.

"Strange. No one has refused my money before. Yet here you are, trying to do exactly that when I've already bought you," there was something dark glinting in the king's blue eyes.

"I'm not for sale!" Jaskier protested vehemently trying to get his arm back.

"You already have my coins in your pocket. Pockets I paid for. You have already accepted," Marden's grip tightened enough to bruise.

"I did not!" Shit, Marden was strong. "I'll give it all back, right now! I'll even undress and return the clothes to you immediately if that's the problem. Just let-"

 _"Go!"_ Jaskier's heel connected with the king's knee and everything froze.

Fuck.

He didn't mean to do that.

At all.

It was like a storm cloud had manifested. The darkness that Jaskier had spotted spilled over Marden's whole being. The next second Jaskier felt his back hit a tree trunk king's hands keeping him in place, one pressing against his sternum and the other cutting off his air.

"You're going to stay here. If you even think about leaving my home I'll have the Witcher's head cut off. And after you've watched it, I'll slowly run my sword through you," Marden whispered in Jaskier's ear, sounding calm as if he was making a remark about the weather. "Understood?"

Deathly pale, Jaskier managed a tiny nod.

"That's a good man," Marden patted the bard's cheek and released him. "This could have gone much more pleasantly if you hadn't acted so foolishly."

"Now, run back inside. Enjoy the rest of the feast and make merry. One of the servants will show you your new room afterwards," the king yawned. "I'm sure you won't inform the Witcher about details of our arrangement."

Again, Jaskier could only nod.

There was something ugly churning in Geralt's gut watching all those nobles flock around Jaskier. Fawning, complementing, flirting.

Jaskier should be thriving and preening from all the attention. Instead there was something uncomfortable and pinched in his expression, skillfully masked behind playful smiles and bright laughs.

Geralt didn't want to contemplate why he, and only he, noticed the bard's wish to run.

The Witcher was more interested in why Jaskier was acting like that in the first place. It was unnatural, especially when compared to how Jaskier had been before walking away with the king. Absent-mindedly Geralt cracked his knuckles and left his spot for the first time in the last hour, heading towards the bard.

"If you drink any more, I'll have to carry you back. And I'm not going to do that," the Witcher looked Jaskier over. Somehow in the little time they had been apart, the bard had managed to get drunk. Extremely drunk. He wouldn't be performing again tonight.

"Geralt! My favorite Witcher!" Jaskier whooped, turning and stumbling towards him.

"No worries, no worries, I'm not going back. I have a loooovely bed waiting for me here!" there was a strange break in his voice Geralt noted, sidestepping consoling pats the bard tried to give. Thankfully it didn't take much work to lead Jaskier back to the place Geralt had briefly vacated, the bard following without complaint.

"Found someone to share with?" Geralt asked with a small twinge of… something.

"Naaah..."

"Hey, Geralt? Did you know bards and whores are the same?" Jaskier asked after a while, staring in the distance.

"What?"

"You know, you can buy both," Jaskier chuckled mirthlessly. "Never thought about it before. But it's true. Toss a coin and you get entertained."

"It's just… different kind of plucking." he finished imitating playing scales.

"Jaskier, what the fuck happened?" something was very wrong and Geralt needed to find out the reason right now. "Tell me!"

"Nuhh-huh. Is a secret," Jaskier shushed. "Can't tell. No can do!"

Geralt needed to kill someone. He just didn't know who. Yet. But he had a good guess.

"That's it. We're leaving," Geralt stated, grabbing Jaskier's arm.

 _"NO!"_ Jaskier truly had a powerful set of lungs. Geralt was convinced the whole castle heard him.

"Let go! You ass, you… you horse lover! The Mud Wolf!" Jaskier looked seconds away from slumping to the floor in protest like a toddler having a tantrum Geralt thought.

Not waiting for it to happen, the Witcher heaved Jaskier over his shoulder ignoring the bard's screeches that had silenced the hall. Taking a small detour to retrieve the lute he started the march towards the gates.

"Where are you going?"

Geralt had gotten all the way to the hallway leading to the front doors when the king's voice rang out and Jaskier started squirming violently.

"I wasn't thinking about it! I wasn't!" the bard shrieked. "The fucker doesn't know! He's kidnapping me!"

"He. Won't. Let. Go!" Each word was emphasized with a useless hit to Geralt's back.

"I ask you kindly to release my bard, Witcher," Marden said calmly. "We have an agreement. One that doesn't involve you. Unless you refuse to leave quietly and alone that is."

"Yours?" Geralt growled. "What the hell does that mean?"

"Mine," the king agreed. "You might have owned him before but a songbird like that should be taken care of, not forced to fight to make a living in the wild."

"You're a sick bastard," Geralt wished he had his swords with him. Instead he had a drunk bard who had managed to get in trouble within the half hour he was out of eyesight.

"Are you telling me collecting and keeping beautiful things safe is sick? Flowers, art, music. It's all the same," Marden sighed "I simply want to preserve even the most fleeting wonders of the world. But you're not the first one who misunderstands me."

"Guards!"

With that a sizable number of guards stepped from behind the king, crossbows ready and swords at their hips. Marden clearly had not underestimated what Geralt could do, even unarmed.

Fuck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...Enjoy? :')


	4. Chapter 4

How the fuck Jaskier had such a talent for attracting trouble Geralt would never know. But there was no chance in hell that he was going down without a fight. It would be difficult with all those crossbows aimed at him and Jaskier trying to wriggle free. From his shrieks it sounded like he would run to the king instead of doing the sensible thing and head for the doors.

Marden had to be holding something over his head. Jaskier valued his freedom far too much to volunteer for the life the bastard seemed to be offering.

Geralt made his move and threw Jaskier as far as he could towards the doors.

The bard hit the stone floor, rolling a few feet farther. And promptly vomited. Alcohol clouded head and wine filled stomach not made for that kind of movements.

That taken care of Geralt turned back to the guards and surged forward. The king might want Jaskier but he also didn't seem to mind having the bard shot alongside him if it started to look like they'd escape. Marden didn't strike him as a man who would bluff.

"Shoot him!"

With that Geralt dropped to the floor for just long enough to let the bolts fly over him. Having been aimed at the Witcher's torso, they whistled harmlessly over also Jaskier who was still prone and struggling against his rebelling stomach.

With inhuman speed Geralt crossed the distance between him and the guards, driving his fist in the closest one's face. Dropping their bows the rest drew their swords only seconds later, unwilling to accidentally shoot each other. With the bleeding man distracted by his broken nose, Geralt swiftly took a sword from the man's belt and lifted it.

With that, the fight began.

None of the men could hold a candle to the Witcher's skills but they were trained and they were many. The moment Geralt dispatched one, another was already attacking. He couldn't get a count but it felt never-ending.

Yanking his stolen sword out of yet another guard's gut he turned to face the next one. A piercing pain shot through his back and side, making him stumble. The guards pounced on the opportunity and forced him to the floor, immobilizing him. One of them lifted his sword, ready to strike the killing blow.

"NO! Don't! Please! I'll stay! _I'll stay!_ " Jaskier screamed. "Please!"

"Stop."

The sword halted mid-air.

"I told you I'd make you watch the Witcher lose his head, didn't I?" Marden mused. "You. Go get him."

Guard the king had pointed at dragged Jaskier to kneel almost nose to nose with Geralt.

"That's better," Marden said, taking a sword and placing it against Geralt's neck. "Any last words Witcher?"

"Fuck you!"

"Ah, so eloquent," Marden sounded disappointed. "Is that why you kept a bard? To speak for you? To make him sing your praises?"

A furious growl was his only answer.

Locking eyes with Jaskier Marden started to ever so slowly push the sword against the Witcher's neck drawing blood.

"Don't! Please, please, don't!" tears were falling from Jaskier's eyes as he begged, trying to break the hold keeping him still. "Don't kill him! I'll do anything you want, _anything_. I promise!"

"Is that so?" the sword stopped.

"Jaskier, don't," Geralt warned him, looking like he wanted to tear the king apart the second moving wouldn't cut his throat open.

"Yes," Jaskier whispered. "Just… just don't kill him."

"Hmmm. But I can't let him go," Marden wondered in faked thoughtfulness. "What do you suggest we do with him, songbird?"

Jaskier stared at him silently, his shuddering breaths the only sound. He was trying to gather his wits, trying to come up with something that wouldn't lead to Geralt's death. It seemed impossible.

A sigh. "I suppose I'll have to come up with something myself."

"If I let him live for now, will you sing for me tomorrow?" Marden was leaning over the Witcher's shoulder smiling kindly.

"Yes," there was nothing he wouldn't do if it kept Geralt alive. And singing? That he could do in his sleep.

"How wonderful!" the king's smile turned into a delighted grin and he finally moved his sword away from Geralt's jugular. "Come, I'll personally show you your quarters. Don't forget to pick up your lute."

Jaskier was wrenched up, his instrument pressed into his hands, and pushed towards Marden who was walking away still holding the bloody sword in his hand.

"You know where to take the Witcher. And do make sure his wound doesn't kill him." Marden didn't even glance back at the guards or their captive.

Following him, Jaskier couldn't tear his stinging eyes off Geralt. The Witcher was getting manhandled and bound, blood blooming on his shirt, guards swarming him to make sure he wouldn't escape.

They walked in silence. The king leading the way, Jaskier trailing after him and two guards keeping an eye out. Finally, they stopped in front of a door.

"Stay here," Marden ordered the guards, opening the door and gesturing for Jaskier to enter.

The room was beautiful and Jaskier was sick of it.

Not knowing what else to do, he halted in the middle of the room, just standing there looking around. A bed and a nightstand, writing table and a chair, carved armoire, high windows. A soft rug under his boots. He placed his lute down when told to do so.

"Let's make you more comfortable," Marden said, coming to stand in front of him. Not waiting for an answer, he started unfastening Jaskier's silk doublet and gently eased it off the frozen bard's shoulders. Pushing against his chest Marden forced Jaskier to walk backwards until he was sitting down on the bed.

"It's a shame seeing your lovely face like this," the king said dipping a small towel in the bowl of water sitting on the nightstand. "Truly."

With that he began to tenderly clean dried tear tracks streaking Jaskier's cheeks and the bit of vomit still clinging to his chin off, the bard too terrified to do anything and hating each second of it.

Marden carded his hand a couple times through Jaskier's hair, moving it to fall more to his liking. "That's better!"

Jaskier felt disgusting.

"I'll let you rest now," the king said with a smile, turning Jaskier's face from side to side, inspecting him once more for some flaw. "But we'll see tomorrow morning. Don't forget your promise."

With that Marden left the room leaving Jaskier alone, sitting still as a stone. Then he reached out to the bowl, stood up, and hurled it across the room with a scream. The porcelain shattered with a satisfying crash. Next went the chair. Then every other item in the room Jaskier was strong enough to throw or topple. Finally, only his lute sat on the floor untouched.

Panting, Jaskier walked next to it and collapsed among the wreckage of his own making. Burying his face in his chemise's sleeves, he started to cry.

Geralt wanted to rip the guards' heads off and storm the castle to find Jaskier.

Neither was possible with the way he was currently bound and imprisoned. He had been taken to the lower levels of the castle and shoved none too gently in a cell, hands still secured behind his back with thick rope. These fuckers just had to be bright enough to do something about their fear of Witchers and not treat him like any other prisoner, Geralt seethed.

At least they had followed orders and a terrified healer had come to see him and took care of the stab wound. He wouldn't let it distract him twice. He would kill every single asshole who would dare to stand against him.

As soon as he managed to get his hands free.

Geralt had been prepared for a night of annoyance, not this. Like hell he would let Jaskier drag him to another ball again. He also didn't want Jaskier to attend one without him watching over the bard. Better to ban Jaskier from even thinking about accepting any invitations as long as they were traveling together. It would save him so many headaches.

Having nothing else to do, Geralt sat down and tried to find any give or weakness in the knot. It was well tied. His fingers barely brushing against it, palms held apart by the rope. Fuckers. They just had to be competent, didn't they? Where were the idiots when he would for once in his life welcome them? The Witcher gave a frustrated growl.

Not knowing what was happening to Jaskier gnawed at him. Geralt didn't have the slightest idea what the king was capable of. Aside from being ready to kill them if things didn't go his way. It sounded like he did want to shelter Jaskier from harm but his methods had been completely twisted. What would happen when Jaskier refused to comply? His bard was too stubborn to roll over for good even if he was doing as told for now.

Wait. Not his bard, the bard. Jaskier wasn't Geralt's and definitely not Marden's. No one owned him. He was his own person and Geralt would be damned if he let Jaskier keep faking otherwise.

Settling down for the night he promised to raise hell come morning.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do hope you guys didn't really think it would be that easy. ;)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like Marden should be a warning in himself... So, um, be prepared?

Jaskier didn't sleep at all the whole night.

Once his tears were spent and his breathing back to normal, he had just sat there, not really present and feeling disconnected from his body, until he eventually gathered the pieces of himself back together. He made sure to muss his hair into disarray as he stiffly got up to change his sitting place. Settling against the wall he hugged his lute and took stock of the situation.

He was kept in a gilded cage by an unhinged king with an unhealthy obsession with him. Wounded Geralt was sitting in a cell. At least he was quite sure that's where the Witcher had been dragged to. Jaskier knew there was no way he could have predicted these things but it still didn't stop him from feeling horribly guilty and foolish. This was his fault. If he hadn't pestered Geralt to join him the Witcher would have stayed safe and sound at the inn.

No use crying about what had already happened. Besides, he was all out of tears.

What could he do about this all? Nothing, a reflexive thought whispered but Jaskier tried to silence it. There was always something you could do. It was just escaping him at the moment.

He did have windows, making escape technically possible. But while he was a veteran with hasty exits through them, these were too high up and without handholds to climb down. He would just fall to his death and Jaskier didn't have any desire to do so. Even if he did miraculously manage a safe descent it would leave Geralt behind. And he wasn't doing that. Ever.

There was also a locked door. He had heard the key turning and he was guessing there were also guards outside. He wouldn't be able to leave the room without Marden's permission.

With a bitter taste in his mouth he admitted that he needed to follow the king's whims if he wanted to have a chance to get Geralt out alive. Jaskier hadn't been lying about doing absolutely anything for Geralt's life but it didn't mean he couldn't try to think of an alternative. He didn't trust Marden's word.

Jaskier had been right about the king enjoying the privileges of his status. He just hadn't imagined Marden would use them like this. It hadn't even crossed his mind. The king was completely deranged.

But he was a stubborn bastard.

Opening door startled Jaskier out of his thoughts. He hadn't realized it was late enough in the morning for Marden to be up and about.

"Good morning Jaskier! Did you sleep well?" Marden smiled, looking like he expected to be welcomed with open arms. Servants carrying a bathtub and water followed him in, starting to set everything up.

Oh, hell no.

"I did hear reports of loud crashes originating from your room but I must admit I didn't expect this much destruction," the king tutted looking around. "Very rude indeed."

"Was it something specific that offended you so?" Marden asked with a warning in his airy tone.

"No your majesty. I was just drunk and I get dreadfully clumsy every time," Jaskier said blandly, showing no regret. "Truly a tragedy. Can't even count how often it has gotten me into trouble."

"Well, breakfast should help with the hangover you must have then," the storm was avoided and the king seemed amused. "But I can't have you showing up like… that."

Marden gestured to all of Jaskier. Rumpled yesterday's clothes, unkempt hair starting to turn greasy and deep dark circles under his eyes that were bloodshot from crying, lack of sleep and, indeed, a hangover. The bard wasn't looking anywhere near his best.

"Good thing I brought you a bath and a new set of clothing," the king nodded his head towards the gently steaming tub.

"Thank you. I'll be sure to use it once you take your leave," Jaskier walked to the tub and tested the water. It was a very pleasant temperature.

"No, no, go ahead. Don't mind me," Marden waived his hand. "I feel like continuing our conversation."

Jaskier closed his eyes and took a deep breath through his nose counting to ten. This was exactly what he had expected. The king saw him as more of a doll than an actual human being. A talking and singing doll to play with. Jaskier stood still, just staring at him silently.

"Oh!" Marden exclaimed, getting the hint. "I didn't take you for the modest type. You did offer to undress yesterday."

Turning his back to the bard he continued. "But I don't mind indulging you for a bit."

Jaskier undressed hurriedly and splashed into the tub, half convinced that the bastard would turn around in the middle of it.

"Now that you're comfortable again, let's continue," the king turned to face him and started towards the tub. "I want you to meet my wife Elaine. She has been feeling rather under the weather lately, so I hope you will be able to bring some joy to her with your music."

Jaskier wasn't comfortable at all. In his peripheral vision he could see Marden walk behind him and reach for the soap. The creep really was playing dress up, Jaskier thought as the king started to wash his hair. In protest he tried to duck away but Marden simply pulled Jaskier's hair hard enough to hurt, yanking his head back in place.

For the first time in his life Jaskier contemplated cutting all of his hair off.

Then he was spluttering as the king poured water over his head without a warning. There was a hand combing wet hair out of Jaskier's eyes and another briefly squeezing his nape, which was probably meant to be a friendly gesture but came across as a threat.

"Have you given thought to what you're going to sing?"

He had not.

"Do you have any requests? I'd be happy to perform them," Jaskier refused to turn his head, to look at the king, fake smile firmly in place just in case.

"I'd rather hear songs you pick. After all, you're the professional," there it was again. Marden was playing with him. Jaskier didn't know what kind of reaction the king was looking for but he was pretty sure he hadn't given it yet.

"I'll try my best to make it a pleasing performance for you and your wife," Jaskier reached for the towel and got out of the bathtub, careful to cover himself at all times.

"Turn around," there was a sudden chill in Marden's voice."I want to see your back."

Slowly Jaskier complied, not knowing what about his back was so interesting.

"You have scars," fingers ghosted over them with the venomous statement.

Oh, _fuck_. The scars left by that bloody nekker, hidden when he had been sitting in the tub. A king obsessed with beauty and perfection. Not a good combination.

"Umm… Yeah. They're still pretty fresh, they'll start to fade soon. No need to worry," Jaskier swallowed nervously, shoulders tense, not daring to turn as the fingers left his skin and the king's clothes rustled as the man moved.

Jaskier had been on guard, yet he still was taken by surprise when a hit landed on his back. He stumbled forward with a yelp of pain and before he managed to turn around, another one landed in the same place. Right where the scars were.

"What the fu-!" Jaskier managed to clamp his mouth shut before cursing at the king. Doing that wouldn't spell good news for his survival.

Marden was holding a chair leg, one that had broken off during Jaskier's breakdown last night, with a furious look and white knuckled grip.

"How dare you? How dare you be damaged?" the king shouted advancing again.

"They'll fade! And- and they're easy to cover!" Jaskier was backing away from Marden.

This was not a situation he wanted to deal with clad only in a towel, Jaskier thought with a hysterical snort he couldn't hold in. His involuntary reaction did nothing to calm the king down.

"I'll just put a shirt on and no one will know! Or makeup, that works too!" Jaskier managed to avoid the next swing. This was bad. Marden had been so calm and collected or cheerful before. Now he was raging. All over a few scars.

"Cover indeed. Bruises bloom and die like flowers, gone without a trace," Marden seethed. "There's unique beauty in them. They'll be your makeup."

Fuck. The king was even more sick than Jaskier had thought. No small deed to achieve. Bloody fucking fantastic.

No wonder he hadn't gotten angry about the developing bruises Jaskier had from having been thrown.

Marden was swinging his improvised club with single minded determination, Jaskier barely twisting and dodging out of the way. His left foot stung with each step after not noticing the shards of the bowl he had thrown, broken porcelain cutting into it. He was probably leaving bloody footprints on the floor and the expensive rug. It was a miracle his towel still clung to his hips.

Not watching where he was going, Jaskier crashed against something and fell to the floor. It was the same fucking chair that was missing its leg.

How poetic.

Not getting up fast enough, Marden loomed over him. With Jaskier trying to get away, the chair leg connected with his side instead of his back.

"I can't sing if you break my ribs," Jaskier wheezed.

Surprisingly, it seemed to get through to the furious king. Marden let his arm relax, dangling his weapon loosely.

"That is true," he said coolly staring down at Jaskier. "And I do hope to hear you sing today."

Marden dropped the chair leg and kneeled next to the bard and took his face between his hands, thumbs caressing Jaskier's cheeks. "At least your face remains flawless. Such beautiful wide blue eyes."

The king straightened up and strode to where the new clothes for Jaskier waited.

"Get up and put these on. We're already late for breakfast."

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to add a new tag for non-consensual touching since I realized I probably should have done it last chapter. Marden's actions kinda warrant it. 
> 
> Btw, if you think I've missed any tag please do let me know!


	6. Chapter 6

Every step he took hurt. Jaskier hadn't been given much time to treat his cut up foot and there probably were pieces of porcelain still in it.

The king didn't seem to care about things like that quite as much as before after finding out that Jaskier was …damaged… as he had put it. Not a good sign. Jaskier himself hadn't thought about his scars at all in a while. They weren't that remarkable or causing any discomfort anymore even though they were still red from being relatively new. What a great way to be reminded.

Following the king Jaskier didn't have any inclination to break the silence that had fallen over them. He would rather walk without making any noise even if it normally made him feel like he was suffocating after a while. Soon they entered a bright room where the queen was already sitting at the table filled with breakfast foods.

Elaine was stunning and Jaskier was immediately scared for her.

The queen's black hair was artfully pinned up. Red lips, lilac dress showing her shoulders, and white gloves reaching her elbows creating a beautiful contrast with her dark skin. Jaskier couldn't help but notice he was wearing the same colors as her. He didn't want to contemplate why.

"My love!" Marden greeted and went to give her a kiss on the cheek. "I'm so sorry we're late. There were some issues to take care of."

Elaine placed her hand on Marden's. "It's fine."

"Who's this?" she continued with a small frown looking at Jaskier. "I didn't know we'd have company."

"Ah yes. Let me introduce the bard Jaskier. He was one of the entertainers at yesterday's feast. He'll be staying with us for now. It'd be such a waste to have a talent like him leave so soon."

Elaine's frown deepened as Marden explained Jaskier's presence, but she didn't express any feelings she might have about the situation. Instead she gestured to one of the chairs with a barely visible smile for Jaskier, encouraging the bard to sit down next to her.

"Our songbird here will be giving us a private performance after breakfast. I hope it will cheer you up my love," Marden continued nodding at the lute resting against a wall and settled in the chair next to Jaskier.

Elaine's lips tightened as the king did so. Jaskier felt incredibly uncomfortable sitting between the royal couple.

"Please Jaskier, do help yourself to some food. I guarantee it'll be to your taste," Marden said casually resting his hand against Jaskier's neck.

Looking anywhere but the king Jaskier placed few of the treats on his plate, feeling too sick to eat. He tried to shrug the hand away but Marden switched to holding him, not letting him get away. It felt like the king was pressing a hot branding iron against Jaskier's skin, terrifying him with the way the bastard kept escalating.

The queen was also picking at her food.

It would have been silent if not for Marden's excited talk about some rare flower he was about to acquire and Jaskier's forced answers whenever the hand started to squeeze.

Breakfast took an eternity.

Finally, finally, Marden finished eating and declared it time for Jaskier to play. Taking Elaine's hand, he led her to a couch near the open windows.

Jaskier's legs felt like lead as he walked to his lute. He had thought singing for the king would be absolutely nothing. An incredibly easy task as Jaskier did it all the time, even for ungrateful and hostile audiences. Something that would barely register underneath the never-ending worry and fear he had for Geralt. Yet here he was, throat tight and tremble in his hands.

Steeling himself Jaskier turned towards the couple with the cocky grin of a performer who knew he counted among the best.

With a bow he started singing a lighthearted song about a maiden and a wood sprite who fell in love. During every song he sang, Jaskier kept staring in Marden's eyes with a challenge to disturb the performance in front of his wife. It felt good to wrench even the tiniest victory from the situation. Marden's knuckles were slowly turning white as he gripped the armrest and Jaskier took spiteful pleasure from watching it happen.

Suddenly the king's expression contorted into such a murderous and possessive glower that Jaskier faltered and missed a chord. His song fell apart and a ringing silence filled the room. Dumbfounded, Jaskier slowly lowered his eyes to stare at his hands clutching the lute.

It had been at least a decade since he had made a mistake like that.

It was the last straw for Marden. Jumping up from the couch he strode in front of Jaskier, grabbing his lapels with both hands forcing the bard nose to nose with himself, close enough for their breaths to mingle, Elaine's plea for her husband to stop ignored.

"Is this it? Is this all you're worth? Damaged goods with a gorgeous face as its only saving grace?" Marden demanded. "A bard who can't get through even the simplest of performances? One that doesn't have the sense to stay compliant?"

"It was amusing to watch you struggle for what you counted as small wins. But I'm done with games!" the king kept raising his voice. "Are you trying to get the Witcher killed after all?"

In response Jaskier gave Marden a feral grin full of teeth and spat on his face.

He could hear Geralt outside the doors.

Geralt had slept for a while, meditating rest of the night away trying to get as much rest as possible. He wouldn't be of any use if he was too exhausted to fight his way to Jaskier and out. Not knowing the layout of the castle or what part of it the bard had been taken to wouldn't make it any easier. Geralt would have to convince one of the guards to tell him.

The biggest problem of getting out of the cell was the timing. He had figured out a way to rid himself of the rope but it would do no good if he couldn't open the door. He'd have to wait for a guard, one with a key, to come close enough.

Geralt slowly shuffled a bit closer to the door, not wanting to draw attention.

And waited.

He stared at the guards occasionally moving outside with deep-seated anger smoldering in eyes, readying himself to pounce the second his prey stepped into range. Really, it wasn't very different from setting up an ambush during a hunt. After what felt far too long even for Geralt's patience when hunting, a guard with a visible key started walking by his cell.

With a lightning-quick _Igni_ sign Geralt burnt through the ropes and lunged.

He grabbed the surprised guard through the bars and yanked him, hard. Stunned by the action, the guard didn't have enough time to retaliate before Geralt bashed the man's head against the bars, making him slump to the floor unconscious and bleeding. Stealing the key Geralt opened the door, stepped out, and took the sword from the guard's belt.

Time to find someone to guide him.

Geralt took off in a light jog to the direction he had entered from yesterday. There would no doubt be at least a few guards stationed by the door leading out of the dungeon that could help him. There were.

It didn't take much to dispatch three of them, none having been expecting an attack. The fourth Geralt slammed against the wall. Ignoring the pain on the palm that had received some of the sign's fiery effects alongside the rope, he covered the remaining guard's mouth to make sure he wouldn't call for backup.

"Where's the bard?" Geralt growled. Removing his hand from the guard's lips he pressed his sword firmly against the guard's rapidly beating heart.

"I- I don't kno-" the guard didn't get to finish.

"I don't have time for that. Either tell me something useful or I'll kill you."

"The royal wing! Don't know exactly where!" seemed like the guard preferred living over staying loyally silent. Smart man. "Want me to take you there…?"

"Yes."

With that the guard unbuckled his sword belt, handing it to Geralt with a nervous look. For once someone was committed to staying alive, a small part of Geralt acknowledged, pleased. Quickly placing the belt on his own hips, it would be at least a bit more inconspicuous than walking around with an unsheathed sword, he pushed the guard to start walking. Walking barely half a step behind him Geralt made sure the man knew he would be dead the moment he tried something.

All in all it was much more uneventful and faster trek through the castle's back corridors than if he didn't have his dubiously willing guide. All the servants they encountered took one look at the scene and promptly decided they had urgent errands elsewhere. As did some of the guards. And those that didn't… Well, they wouldn't have anything important to do ever again.

Little after they arrived in the royal wing Geralt grabbed a chambermaid's arm as she tried to hurry past them head low. She was carrying Jaskier's clothes.

"Where is he? The bard?" the Witcher snarled, yanking the clothes out of her grip on reflex. Jaskier would probably want them back.

"With the king," she whispered, not moving an inch and terrified. "Having breakfast."

"I know where they eat it," the guard gulped as Geralt shot him a questioning glare.

The maid sprinted away as soon as Geralt let her arm go, shoving at the guard to continue leading the way. It didn't take long until Geralt could have navigated the hallways himself, guided by Jaskier's singing and lute. Relief washed over Geralt and he took a breath that felt easier than any since this all started.

Jaskier was alive and well enough to play.

Turning one last corner they arrived in front of closed double doors guarded by two men quietly talking to each other. Startled by the arrival, they were taken off guard by the charging Witcher.

Crossing swords with the faster one of the guards Geralt snarled loudly in frustration. Jaskier's song had stopped and Geralt could hear Marden shouting. He needed to get in now. Forcing his current opponent to block the path of his partner, Geralt slashed the guard's chest open. One left.

Wild eyed the remaining guard opened his mouth to yell a warning but Geralt silenced him with a jab to the throat. Gasping desperately, the guard dropped his sword that skidded right in front of the man who had worked as Geralt's guide. He looked down at the sword offering him an opportunity to face the Witcher again, without the disadvantage of a surprise this time. He kicked it away and fled.

Letting the last obstacle standing between him and Jaskier slump to the floor dead, Geralt wrenched the double doors open.

Just in time to see Marden hit Jaskier's face, making the bard stumble and drop his lute.

As much as Marden raved about Jaskier's face, he didn't seem to have any qualms about marring it anymore. Not with that punch. Jaskier could already feel his cheek swelling with what definitely would turn into a spectacular bruise. At least Geralt was always such a sight for sore eyes, now in the literal sense too.

Seeing the furious Witcher advance on him, Marden wrenched Jaskier in front of himself, using him as a shield. This was not happening. Jaskier wasn't going to let them be played again with this move. Not fucking likely. The strangling hands cutting off his air weren't going to stop him.

Before Marden had time to even threaten the Witcher, Jaskier locked eyes with Geralt and threw his arms up and behind, nails scratching blindly at the king's face. With a pained howl Marden threw Jaskier away from him before the bard managed to do more serious harm than leave bleeding lines. Crashing against the table and sagging down to the floor Jaskier watched with grim satisfaction as Geralt's sword sunk deep into the king's chest.

Wrenching the sword out Geralt gave one more violent stab and let the king's lifeless body drop to the floor.

"Jaskier!" Geralt called out hurrying the few steps to his side.

"Geralt. Nice entrance, very dramatic!" Jaskier hoarsely greeted him, massaging his throat.

"Get up. We need to go," Geralt practically heaved the bard back on his feet and stepped in between him and the queen who was walking towards them, primly lifting her hem so as not to step on it.

Elaine stopped by her dead husband's body, looked down, and kicked him in the face breaking his nose.

"Isn't it such a shame he was killed by a doppler disguised as you, Witcher?" she asked straight faced and with absolutely no grief in her eyes. "So very tragic."

Jaskier gave an incredulous laugh. Oh, this was amazing. So much better than he could have ever imagined.

Geralt only blinked at the queen in surprise and Jaskier's smile disappeared quickly. Oh, right. He didn't know of Marden's… interests. This had to look strange to him. Suddenly Jaskier registered how close he was standing to the Witcher, practically glued to his back, and took a large step away. He didn't want to. Really. He loved being near Geralt. But it made the itchy feeling fade a bit.

"I should reward you, Witcher, for disposing such a foul beast but I think you'd prefer to simply leave. Am I right?" Elaine asked as they could hear running feet and shouts coming nearer.

"We would," Geralt agreed, not taking his eyes off the queen, sizing her up.

"Let me escort you out then as a thank you for saving my life even if the king fell," with that Elaine started to walk to the door where the first backups were arriving.

"My queen! Are you unhurt?" the same soldier who had delivered the invitation to Jaskier shouted and rushed to her side. He lifted his sword up and would have attacked the Witcher if Elaine hadn't touched his shoulder for just the briefest moment.

"I am, thanks to the Witcher and the bard. There was a dreadful monster, a doppler, who tried to take my life after the king's," Elaine sighed. "But I was saved by our guests. It was such a sight seeing the Witcher fight what looked like himself."

"They have refused any rewards so all I can do is walk with them as they leave. I hope you good sirs will take care of my dear husband's body?" she finished, looking at the disbelieving faces of her guards and soldiers.

"Of… course my queen," the soldier sheathed his sword away and gestured for a few men to come in. "Let me escort you."

With that the unexpected procession started walking towards the castle's front doors.

Sunlight and the warm breeze felt like balm to Jaskier. This catastrophe of a feast hadn't actually taken many hours at all yet he still felt like he hadn't been outside in years. Strange how time didn't seem to work as it should.

"Jaskier?" Elaine whispered, coming to stand close to him. "I'm so sorry."

"It's fine. Still in one piece and all!" Jaskier gestured to himself with an airy laugh. He could guess what the gloves were hiding. "If anything, I should be saying that to you. Having to have actually lived with him and all…"

There wasn't much else to say.

"Thank you Witcher. Truly. I can't spare any guards to escort you but I trust you know the way?" at Geralt's curt nod she gave a faint smile. "There's no more danger within these walls and I hope you'll have safe travels wherever you go."

Or need to run.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Super long chapter but the king is DEAD!!
> 
> I went over my plans and decided that it'll be smoother if I just continue this one a bit longer than originally planned. I ended up kicking Jaskier more than I originally planned, so there's no way I can resolve certain things quickly enough to feel comfortable to move on to another story. Even if it originally would have been tightly tied to this one.
> 
> So, remix time backstage and newly upped chapter count. It's time for some heavy duty comfort after that nightmare! I'll also be updating tags again in preparation for the "part 2 of the feast from hell".


	7. Chapter 7

"Well. How do you feel now that you've killed a king and been gifted the queen's gratitude for it?" Jaskier idly asked as they walked towards their inn. "Strange not having to run away and hide? Because that's how it feels to me."

Geralt was staring at him.

"Where are you hurt? I can smell your blood."

Of course he could. "My left foot got cut up a bit. Stepped on some porcelain."

"Don't look at me like that! I did step on porcelain!" the look Geralt had shot him was downright insulting. "It's not euphemisms like 'walked into a door'. Why would I even do that?"

"And it should be me asking you. I saw you get stabbed! Should you be walking at all?" Jaskier circled to Geralt's other side, trying to check the wound.

Except there was nothing to see as the Witcher's dirty shirt covered everything. Jaskier wanted to lift it, to take a look and reassure himself that Geralt wasn't still bleeding. Wouldn't even be the first time he had done that since not everyone had a Witcher's bloodhound nose. Jaskier just couldn't make his fingers move to tug on the shirt's hem.

Instead, he took a couple of hurried steps to get in front of the Witcher and started to walk backwards so he could keep eye contact.

"Since I didn't 'step on porcelain', you don't get to say 'I'm fine'."

"I'm fine," Geralt said. "A healer took care of it."

"You ass!" Jaskier declared with a smile. "I take it they patched you up well enough to just leave it to heal, then?"

"Hmm."

"What about your hand? It looks burned. And why do you have a bundle of cloth hanging from your belt, a souvenir to remember them by perhaps?"

"They're your clothes," Geralt frowned at the way Jaskier's good mood disappeared.

"Oh. You can burn them. Just… _Igni_ away. Poof!" Jaskier imitated an explosion and fell back in step with Geralt, looking straight ahead. "I'm serious. I don't want them. And once I change you're welcome to scorch these too."

Jaskier wanted absolutely nothing against his skin that Marden had touched.

Absent-mindedly he ran a hand through his hair, ruffling it so it didn't fall as smoothly. Getting back to the inn sounded good. He was done with being awake and aware of the world.

"Are you sure?" the Witcher asked looking at him askew. "You? Burning court appropriate clothing?"

"Yes I'm sure!" Jaskier snapped with more heat than he meant to use.

"I just… don't like them," he finished lamely, refusing to meet Geralt's searching eyes and walked silently the last few minutes until they entered the inn. Not paying attention to anyone else, Jaskier hurried to their room only to realize that he didn't have a key. Staring blankly and oddly defeated at the lock he waited for Geralt to catch up and open the door.

"Sit," Geralt ordered, pushing Jaskier towards the bed and going to get their far too regularly used medical supplies.

Jaskier caught himself against the mattress and sat down on the floor. "No."

He didn't look up at Geralt's snort and focused on removing his left shoe. Wiggling it off made the pain in his lacerated sole flare up with a vengeance. The hasty bandaging work was coming loose and stained in red. Cleaning the boot would be fun.

"Bring me water, will you?" Jaskier asked, inspecting his foot. Yep, there was a shard. Probably some tiny pieces too. How lovely.

Hands grabbed his ankle and Jaskier kicked out with an alarmed yelp, breaking the loose hold, and scrambled away. It was just Geralt.

"Warn a man next time!" Geralt shouldn't sneak up on people. It was rude.

"Let me see," the Witcher held his hand out, expecting him to do so.

"No. Just give me the supplies and I'll take care of it. Tend to your hand or something," Jaskier said, already pulling the water and cloth closer to start cleaning the wounds. It would be an uncomfortable pose but he could do it now that he didn't have a time limit. And had pincers.

"Do you suddenly enjoy getting a crick in your neck?" Geralt huffed.

"Maybe I do," first shard out. Time to find all the small ones. Jaskier could feel Geralt keep looking at him with unsaid questions. Eventually he did turn away, presumably to take care of his hand but the bard didn't bother to check.

It did take a while until Jaskier was satisfied there was no porcelain left. Finishing with the bandage, he looked up to see what Geralt was doing. The man had changed into his normal clothes and was inspecting his swords with a critical eye and a hand wrapped in gauze. Good, he had taken care of himself.

"Find any rust? After all, you left them alone for so many hours," Jaskier joked getting up to put the supplies back in place. "Poor things must have missed you."

A negative grunt was all Geralt deigned to answer with.

"Great! Then you can leave," Jaskier tried to shoo the Witcher out. "I want to change and go to bed. Didn't get any sleep last night."

"I'm not stopping you," Geralt said surprised. They had no problem with doing either of those things in each other's company after traveling together for so long.

"Not literally. I just want to be alone for a bit," Jaskier felt almost like shuffling his feet but reigned the urge in. "Go get a beer or something, okay?"

With a dubious look but no further comment Geralt got up and slowly walked out, leaving Jaskier alone as he had wished.

The door clicked shut and Jaskier started to practically rip his clothes off. They were disgusting. Constricting his breath and making his skin feel like on fire. He needed them gone.

Finally clad in his own clothes Jaskier crawled into bed and buried himself under the covers. Clutching the blanket he tried to calm down. He really did want some sleep and racing pulse and stinging eyes were severely hindering it. His bruises ached with a dull pain making it hard to shut his thoughts off.

He just wanted to sleep.

Geralt had indeed gone and gotten a beer for himself. Sitting in the same corner table as before, he scowled at his untouched ale.

What the fuck had happened to Jaskier while they were separated?

Jaskier's brief drunken speech about bards being prostitutes kept repeating in his head, a heavy stone sitting in his stomach. At least while the bastard king's scent was still slightly mingling with Jaskier's, he didn't smell of sex. Thankfully. Even if it left many disturbing options.

Geralt didn't notice his fingers starting to create splinters where he was gripping the table.

Fuck it all.

This wasn't something he was equipped to handle. He didn't know the right words to say or right things to do and it was eating at him. What the hell was he supposed to do, especially if Jaskier wouldn't tell him anything? Play along and pretend he didn't notice something wrong with the bard? Confront and force him to admit?

Nearest customers carefully moved to a new table farther away from the Witcher as he growled.

Sipping his ale Geralt regretted not killing Marden slower. The bastard would have deserved every single agony of it. But it was a reflex to kill threats as quickly as possible. Not give them a chance to retaliate. And the king would probably have taken it out on Jaskier. Unacceptable.

At least Jaskier was safe again. And wouldn't be leaving Geralt's side for a while. Well, in a more radical way than this. He had to admit they couldn't be glued to each other all the time. But the bard wouldn't be going anywhere alone for now.

Not until Geralt was sure he would be fine.

Jaskier didn't get his wish.

He was exhausted physically and mentally but sleep kept escaping him. The moment he would nod off, he jerked awake sure there was danger. It made him want to scream.

Maybe he shouldn't have asked Geralt to leave, he was safe. No. No, no, no. Jaskier didn't need the Witcher to be able to fall asleep. He wasn't that pathetic. He was not. Just a bit wound up still, probably dehydrated.

Getting up he walked to the pitcher of water. And promptly cursed himself as his hand shook when he lifted it. He wanted to hurl the damned thing across the room but Rena didn't deserve that kind of rudeness. So he just placed it back and walked to stand by the window.

Resting his forehead against the glass he watched for a while how his breath misted on it before observing the people outside. Strange how life kept going on there like nothing had happened. To the rest of the world it was true. Nothing of consequence had transpired.

It was just him. Jaskier knew he had a tendency for dramatics. It wasn't like the king had hurt him that badly. Or done something actually untoward to him. He was probably blowing the whole thing out of proportion. Wouldn't be the first time. Geralt would surely agree.

Scrunching his eyes closed, Jaskier felt incredibly foolish. Why couldn't he just sleep? He didn't want to deal with this.

There was a soft knock that made Jaskier freeze up.

"Jaskier? You awake?" Geralt's quiet voice asked.

He couldn't force a word out even as relief washed over him.

Geralt unlocked the door and peeked his head in to take stock of the situation. Seeing Jaskier standing still and wide eyed he frowned and stepped inside, carrying a sizable pile of fresh laundry.

"These were shoved at me," he shrugged in explanation and dropped them over Jaskier's bag. "Got any sleep?"

"Yeah," Jaskier's tongue was starting to cooperate again. "Yeah, I got some. Feeling way better than before."

As if to prove his point, he stretched and casually leaned against the wall. "Got plans for today?"

"No," Geralt was still frowning at him.

"How very exciting," Jaskier drawled. "I guess you forgot we still have things to do before getting the fuck out of here. Like getting some of the herbs and plants for your potions that don't grow in this region? And I didn't have time to do any of mine."

With that Jaskier went to pick up his pouch of money and marched out of the door. With an annoyed sound Geralt turned on his heels and followed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier continues having very bad, no good day and Geralt wishes he could go back in time.


	8. Chapter 8

"Why are you doing this to yourself?" Geralt demanded glaring at Jaskier.

"Doing what?" the bard asked, genuinely confused.

"Walking. Your foot has to hurt, I did see the damage," Geralt specified, displeased by Jaskier's decision to stroll around the market.

"What else am I supposed to do? Sit quietly in our room staring outside the window like a princess locked in a tower?" Jaskier raised his eyebrow as if to say Geralt was being silly. "No thanks. A little pain is far better than that."

"So it does hurt," the Witcher growled and took a quick look around before steering him to a new direction.

Before Jaskier could ask where he was being led, Geralt was already pointing him to sit on a bench belonging to a booth selling various dishes.

"Stay," Geralt commanded and marched to talk with the owner.

Was Geralt actually going to force him to rest his foot by buying him food? Jaskier couldn't help but blink in astonishment at the mere idea, let alone at the fact it was happening.

"Eat," Geralt continued to be verbose and handed Jaskier some sort of a weird filled potato.

It was warm, smelled delicious and Jaskier felt nauseated thinking about eating it. "Thank you."

He watched Geralt bite into his and let the potato warm his fingers and heart. This was definitely among the sweetest things the Witcher had ever done for him. Even if the timing could have been better. Although, it was exactly because of the shit show of a feast they had had that Geralt was doing this at all.

"It's for eating," Geralt said, noticing the bard hadn't taken even a nibble.

"Obviously," Jaskier stared at the potato for a while longer before sighing and taking the smallest possible bite. It was tasty. And honestly, he turned out to be hungry now that he had gotten over the idea of eating. Not surprising.

"Do you mind if we take care of my shopping first?" Jaskier asked, finishing last of his potato. "I think your plants are a bit more vulnerable to being crushed than notebooks and lute strings."

"That's fine."

Now that Jaskier was aware of it, he could see Geralt keeping an eye out for the way he was walking. Would Geralt sweep him off his feet if he started to limp too much for the Witcher's taste? Strangely, Jaskier had no desire to test it. Well, Geralt wouldn't do it anyway so it was a moot point.

The noise and the liveliness of the place were like music to his ears after either the silence or Marden's voice that had plagued him. Still, Jaskier was starting to doubt his idea of coming to the market for a shopping spree during such popular hours. There was constantly someone brushing against him or otherwise invading his personal space.

Even with Geralt in all his Witcherness creating them slightly more room.

Where was the usual joy of doing this? Unlike a certain Witcher, Jaskier loved shopping. Browsing, chatting, discovering interesting knickknacks. It was supposed to be relaxing, not making him anxious. He kept constantly waiting for the next touch, trying to figure out where it would come from. It was getting tiring, and all he wanted was to be done with the errands. With all of it.

He would pay so much for even an hour of sleep right now. With a heavy exhale Jaskier ran a hand over his face and briefly tangled it in his hair.

Jaskier looked dead on his feet, Geralt noted. And like death had warmed over, with the pale face and deep purple bags under dull eyes. Not to mention the bruise that kept getting darker and darker on his cheek, or the uncharacteristically messy attire and hair.

Jaskier didn't look like someone who should be even standing, let alone wandering around the market square. At least he wouldn't faint from lack of food now.

Geralt had the strangest urge to start carrying Jaskier so he wouldn't have to step on his wounded foot. Not that he would do that. But the idea kept vaguely niggling at him. There wasn't much else to be done than trying to finish as fast as possible and herd the bard back to the inn. For once, Jaskier seemed to be agreeing with the sentiment considering the way he stayed on task instead of flitting from stall to stall the moment something caught his eye.

Geralt wanted to feel pleased with it. He didn't.

Correcting the bag holding Jaskier's purchases into a better position, he watched as Jaskier bought what felt like an excessive amount of soap before moving on. At least they were quickly nearing the herb and medical plant sellers with the logical route Jaskier had picked. The man really knew his shopping.

Soon enough familiar smells hit Geralt's nose and they switched positions, Geralt taking care of the shopping and Jaskier trailing after.

"Did you get everything you wanted?" Geralt checked, stashing last of the potion ingredients.

Listless nod was his only answer.

Once again Geralt was filled with a desire to go back in time just so he could punch Marden in the face. Taking a calming breath Geralt started the walk to the inn, making sure Jaskier wouldn't fall behind with the worsening limp and the way he was starting to sag.

He would give him a day or two to start talking before confronting him, Geralt decided at last. It seemed like a good compromise. Even if he really wanted to shake the answers out of Jaskier right now. But he could be patient and the bard had never been able to stay quiet for long. He loved talking too much so there was a good chance he would start telling what had happened any minute now.

Geralt was half-convinced Jaskier would trip and fall as they climbed the stairs leading to their room. He didn't. But he had started to move too stiffly to be caused by only exhaustion and a wounded foot during their trek back. There had to be something else too.

Placing their purchases right by the door Geralt turned to the bard with a scowl. "You're hurt somewhere else than your foot."

"Why do you think that?" Jaskier said, startled by the accusation. "There's nothing to worry about."

"That's not the same as unhurt," the Witcher walked towards him with determination in his eyes. "Let me see."

"It's nothing. I'm fine," Jaskier placated, taking a step backwards for each Geralt took forward.

"Just some bruises. You did throw me and… Well. It's just bruising, ok. They'll be gone soon," Jaskier was starting to feel trapped with the way he was nearing the wall and the Witcher advancing in front of him. "Seriously."

Why couldn't Geralt just let it go? It wasn't like some bruises were life threatening. Only unpleasant reminders and cause of some aches. Nothing he couldn't handle.

Geralt was very close. And reaching for him.

"Don't touch me!" Jaskier hissed with fear in his eyes and more venom in his voice he had ever used at Geralt. There was a numb coldness spreading outwards from his chest, rapidly enveloping him, making his fingers numb.

For a second that took an eternity Geralt stood unmoving before he let his arm fall and kneeled down in front of him.

Jaskier didn't know when he had slid down to the floor. Didn't matter. He couldn't get any air in his lungs no matter how hard he tried. His rapid gasps were useless and he was sure he would suffocate and die right there and then. Clawing at his chest wasn't helping, so he brought his hands up to grip his hair. Maybe the pain of it would ground him again, let him focus on something else than the way his desperate sobs were making breathing even harder. He didn't know what was happening.

"Jaskier, you need to calm down."

What the _fuck_ did Geralt think he was trying to do? Suffocate for fun? His heart felt like it would burst any second the way it was racing, and he lost Geralt's voice again under it all.

"Damn it, Jaskier!"

The loud yell startled Jaskier back to reality. He still couldn't breathe, but he was again aware of Geralt kneeling in front of him.

"You need to slow your breathing," Geralt sounded strained. "Try doing some of your singing exercises or, fuck if I know, match mine."

That didn't sound like a bad idea. Jaskier wasn't sure at first if he really was moving his arm with the way he was a mix of static and numbness but somehow he managed to weakly point at Geralt's chest, hoping the man would understand.

He did.

"Try to breathe with me. In and out," Geralt guided him, taking slow and deep breaths, occasionally counting out loud when Jaskier was about to get sucked back into his panic. The Witcher wasn't really sure what he was doing but it seemed to start working so he kept it up.

Eventually Jaskier was able to breath again, even if he was still slightly crying. If he had been exhausted before, he didn't know a word for how he felt now. He lifted his head from where he had buried it in his knees and rubbed his eyes.

"Good job?" Geralt's voice was such a weird combination of encouragement and awkwardness that Jaskier couldn't help but give a short wet laugh.

"Thanks. What the fuck was that?" Jaskier asked, starting to feel humiliated about having broken up like that in front of Geralt. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry you had to see that. I don't know what happened. Really. I don't. I'm sorry, sorry."

"Shut up," Geralt ordered with no heat in his voice, cutting Jaskier's looping thoughts. "I think you had a panic attack."

"Oh. I've heard of those. Never had one before," Jaskier said absently, getting shakily up and headed to the bed.

Climbing in, not caring about having his shoes still on, he wrapped blankets around himself and turned his back to Geralt in a clear sign of not wanting any interaction. The Witcher stood up and settled against the wall, not wanting to sit down on the bed and accidentally upset Jaskier even more.

There was no way he would wait for Jaskier to open up by himself after seeing that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What could make Jaskier feel better? Maybe a potato. 
> 
> Too bad it didn't work that long. Panic attacks are the fucking worse.
> 
> And I'm once again starting to doubt that my estimated chapter count is high enough. I'm still not aware just how verbose writer I actually am. But we will see!
> 
> BTW, there's a chance that I can't finish the next chapter by tomorrow, I'm posting these almost right after I finish, but we'll see. I'll try my best! :3


	9. Chapter 9

This time Jaskier had no expectations for sleep. Which obviously meant he finally achieved it.

Or maybe his body just shut down from all the stress it had been under. Regardless of the reason, he was grateful for it. Jaskier might not be feeling much better after waking up, had even developed a headache, but at least he hadn't had to deal with the reality for a bit. He wasn't sure how long he had slept, but the room was considerably darker than before so it had to be a few hours.

He didn't want to face Geralt.

He didn't feel like facing the world in general. But especially the Witcher. Jaskier could only imagine how weak Geralt considered him after witnessing him shattering into pieces. Over nothing. He knew that he already wasn't the most useful traveling partner, lacking many of the important survival skills, and Jaskier doubted Geralt would want to continue with him if he kept acting like a nervous wreck.

The mere thought of going their separate ways was tearing Jaskier's heart apart. He loved traveling with the Witcher. He loved Geralt. More than he could have ever imagined. But it was better to start bracing for it now than be taken by surprise when it happened.

He needed to get himself together.

Jaskier could hear the familiar sound of herbs being ground in a mortar, so he knew Geralt was still in the room, at least half distracted.

If he was fast, he might be able to leave without having to acknowledge him. Jaskier launched himself out of the bed, grabbed his lute, and practically ran out. He could hear the Witcher getting up with a surprised sound but didn't stop until he arrived downstairs.

Spotting an empty table in a relatively central area, Jaskier sat on its edge and loudly strummed his lute once. He didn't feel like giving a speech like last time so that would be enough. Before he could start even the first song, Geralt arrived and took a seat in the same table he was sitting on. Jaskier wasn't sure what else he had thought would happen. Not letting the silent Witcher distract him, he began to play.

Jaskier was just starting to calm down when a spiteful feeling reared its head and he switched to performing the same pieces he had at the feast and in the morning.

They were _his songs_.

And there was no fucking way he would let Marden taint them. With a performer's smile and anger in his eyes he felt like spitting on the bastard's face again as he completed each and every one perfectly, without a quiver in his voice or a chord out of place. How's that for a bard who can't get through even the simplest of performances?

Jaskier continued on until he realized his voice would soon turn hoarse if he didn't stop to drink something. The headache bordering on splitting agreed with the decision. Finishing the last piece for now, he placed his lute down to go to the bar. Before he could stand up, a glass of water was pushed towards him, already waiting on the table.

"Here," Geralt said simply.

Jaskier stared at it in surprise before thanking him. Steeling himself to talk and laugh as normal with his audience, he took a long drink, not daring to look at Geralt, scared to see his expression.

Ah, there came the familiar, congratulating shoulder pats and handshakes that he usually enjoyed. Jaskier was a tactile man and it was eating him alive how he wanted to run away, leg bouncing nervously and back ramrod straight. At least he appeared to be too drained, feeling too removed from what was happening, to react like earlier. Knowing in advance what was coming probably helped too.

During a break from pleased listeners Jaskier noticed Rena behind the bar, looking at him in concern. Flashing a smile to the old woman in reassurance, he finished his water and considered retiring for the night. Before he could do so, a barmaid placed dinner on the table for both him and Geralt.

"You need to eat," Geralt shrugged. "And I'm hungry."

Jaskier couldn't help but give him a small and tired genuine smile. It was as ridiculous as it was heartwarming how the Witcher kept pushing food at him as an attempt to make him feel better. It probably was a good thing too, Jaskier realized with a pang of deep embarrassment. Taking care of basics like that wasn't crossing his mind at all. It made him feel like a burden. And it hadn't been even a whole day yet.

"Thank you," Jaskier said belatedly after realizing he hadn't acknowledged the other man verbally.

"Hmmm."

With that they fell in silence, only clinking of the cutlery filling it.

"Jaskier," Geralt started with uncharacteristic hesitancy. "We need to talk."

"No."

"We do," there disappeared the hesitancy. "You can't insist there's nothing wrong. Not after what happened."

"You sure about that?" Jaskier challenged. "I have it on good authority that I can be annoyingly insistent. Pretty sure they were your words too."

"I'm not going to watch you keep this up!" Geralt tried to keep from snarling in frustration. Why did the bard have to be so stubborn about this? Didn't he realize he just wanted to help?

"Figured," Jaskier sneered. "You're welcome to leave whenever the hell you want. Just fucking go, might as well do it right now than hang around out of fucking pity!"

With that Jaskier stormed out leaving stunned Geralt sitting at the table. This wasn't how the Witcher had thought breaching the topic would go.

The cool early night air did nothing to calm Jaskier down. He had known Geralt would get the hell away from the mess he had become, but he had thought he would have a day or two more to spend with him. The thought of it had torn his heart apart but hearing the actual words made it feel like his heart had died right then and there, shattering in a million pieces.

Swallowing tears Jaskier walked towards the one being that might be able to offer him some solace. Entering the stable Jaskier found Roach happily munching hay.

"Hey girl," Jaskier greeted. Marden might as well still be strangling him with how hard it was to get the words out.

"I think we won't be seeing each other again so I came to say goodbye. I hope you know that you're undoubtedly the best horse I've ever encountered," Jaskier said petting Roach's head after she had stopped eating to huff at his face.

"You're so brave. Definitely braver than I am."

Roach was so warm and steady, letting him rest his forehead against her.

"Please, please keep Geralt safe," Jaskier whispered. "I know you'll do your best, but I still have to beg you to do it. I never want to hear the news of how the White Wolf has fallen."

"He's our Mud Wolf. You know how he's all growly on the outside but doing his best to figure out how this socializing thing works. And keeps trying to hide how kind he actually is. The idiot."

Jaskier didn't know when it had happened but suddenly he found himself hugging the mare.

"I hope he'll buy you tasty treats since I won't be there to do it. You deserve them."

Jaskier could hear the door opening and familiar footsteps approaching. "Came to get her ready for travel?"

"No. I came to drag you back to our room," Geralt huffed. "You're not thinking straight, I'm not going anywhere. Or pity you."

"You're not?" there was a waiver in Jaskier's voice he couldn't suppress as few of the shattered pieces melded back together.

"I'm not leaving."

Jaskier's hug tightened before he let go of Roach.

"Come on, let's go," Geralt nodded his head towards the door.

Avoiding the Witcher's eyes Jaskier started to follow him back to the inn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep. I suck at guessing the final chapter count of this story. With each chapter I keep realizing just how badly I kicked Jaskier. :'D  
> And then decide I need more time to resolve things before I can wrap this up.
> 
> So now the count is Who Even Knows. Probably 15 - 20? Maybe. We'll see!


	10. Chapter 10

The atmosphere between them was the most awkward they had ever shared. Jaskier was staying silent, sitting on the floor, refusing to look in Geralt's direction. The Witcher for his part was standing next to the window staring at the bard, unblinking.

If Geralt had been unsure how to bring the issue up before, now he had absolutely no idea. Idly he wondered if he should barricade the door so Jaskier couldn't bolt. But the room didn't have enough furniture for it and he knew very well it was a bad idea anyway. Didn't make it less tempting.

Geralt hadn't been prepared at all for the reaction even suggesting Jaskier to tell what had happened brought up. The bard had never before acted like that towards him. He seemed like a bow string that was being pulled farther and farther to a point where it was about to snap.

Geralt didn't want to be the one to give the last tug.

But there was far too big gap in his knowledge of what had happened to let it go. And whatever it was, it had started even before their capture. He had only a few sentences from drunk Jaskier and the bastard king to try to piece things together. It wasn't enough to give him anything near to the whole picture.

Better to just get on with it. Geralt shifted his position so that he was sitting in front of Jaskier, just out of arm reach.

"Feel like talking now that you know I'm not walking out on you?" Geralt asked, aiming for neutral instead of frustrated. He missed his mark.

Jaskier opened his mouth like he was about to say something only to change his mind and stayed silent.

"I'm going to make us stay right here until you tell me," Geralt crossed his arms. "We both know which one of us will cave first."

It was a childish threat but Jaskier was already acting like one with his silent treatment.

"I…" Jaskier hesitated. "There's not much to say. Got a couple of bruises and some threats. But Marden didn't do anything else, not really."

"I'm just being melodramatic over nothing," he stated, picking at a loose thread on his sleeve. "You know how I am. Always blowing things out of proportion."

Well. The bard was talking. Even if he was not actually sharing anything. Still, it was a start.

"Obviously. That's why I know something's wrong. This isn't how you act when you're being theatrical."

Geralt wanted to grab Jaskier by the shoulders and physically shake the story out of him. But the urge lessened as Jaskier lifted his head to look at him in the eye for the first time since his breakdown. Small victories, Geralt reminded himself, small victories.

"You think so?" there was a faint undercurrent of hope in Jaskier's voice, like he was wishing for validation.

"Yes."

"Huh," Jaskier fell silent for a while again, giving up on the thread and moving on to mess with his hair.

"You know how you can read between the lines to figure out what someone actually says?" Jaskier continued. "It was like that. But with actions."

"And?" Geralt prompted when the bard faltered again. He would not let Jaskier to close himself off now that he was finally starting to talk.

A shrug.

Fucking stubborn bard, Geralt cursed internally.

"I'm not trying to annoy you Geralt. This is just… hard," Jaskier said absently, as if he had read the Witcher's mind. "I'd rather just not think about it, okay."

"Talk and get it over with, then."

Slowly, tugging at his hair nervously Jaskier started to speak, barely audible even to the Witcher's sharp ears. "You already know the threats he made. Marden, he… saw me as completely his. To do anything with. Like a doll he had bought to play with. A perfect little doll with musical talent. Except I'm not perfect. He didn't like that. He preferred bruises over scars."

"He enjoyed playing, dress up, I guess," Jaskier's quiet voice was falling into a monotone as he stared at something only he could see. "Said I'd be more comfortable when he took my doublet off and forced me to sit on the bed so he could clean my face. I wasn't. I really, really wasn't. He knew it."

"But it was all just …innocent… touches. There's nothing inherently wrong or, or sexual, with washing someone's hair. He just kept physical contact all the time. More and more and for longer and longer. Liked the feeling of owning, the control. Both the physical and what his words could do. I don't know."

"I'm just overreacting, aren't I? It's not like he actually did much. Or hurt me that badly. Just a couple of hits, only four. And I did say I'd do anything. I'm just… I…" Jaskier trailed off, not really paying attention to his surroundings.

Geralt was seeing red and his blood was boiling with fury, rushing in his ears. He wanted to maim and kill the sick bastard all over again. Tear him slowly apart limb by limb. Starting with his hands.

"What the fuck Jaskier?" he growled, trying to wrestle his temper down.

Jaskier jolted back to present. "I know, I know. I'm being stupid, letting my over-emotional side get the better of me."

Where the hell had Jaskier's keen skill of reading him fucked off, Geralt thought with incredulity. The bard was jumping to the wrong conclusions as if he had already decided how Geralt would react.

"Don't worry, I just need some more sleep and I'll be fine," Jaskier continued, oblivious to the reason for Geralt's anger. "We can get back to business as usual tomorrow. It's just been a long day."

Geralt felt like throttling the bard.

"Stop talking."

"Yeah, I'll just go to bed. My head's killing me," Jaskier ignored Geralt. "We'll see in the morning. If you're still here. Won't blame you for changing your mind, you know."

"Jaskier, shut the fuck up!" Geralt didn't mean to yell but at least the bard did stop spouting nonsense. "I'm not going anywhere, I already told you!"

Geralt took a deep breath trying to change his tone from accidentally hostile to something kinder.

"You're not overreacting. You're avoiding," facts, Geralt could do facts. "And it's fucking you over."

Well, so much for kindness, the Witcher kicked himself. He really didn't know how to deal with Jaskier being this upset. He never had had practice. With anyone.

"Oh? Pray tell. Just what am I avoiding?" Jaskier glared at him, gearing up for another spat.

His moods seemed to keep violently swinging, not that Geralt could fault him for it. It wasn't as if he was an epitome of peace and calm himself.

"The bastard was practically molesting you," Geralt ground out, gritting his teeth.

"Fuck you!" Jaskier hissed with fire in his eyes. "Go to hell, Geralt!"

Don't shout, don't shout.

"Are you seriously that blind?" fuck. There went the not shouting too.

"I'm the one who was living it. Don't you think I might know better what was happening?" Jaskier looked like he was planning to run again. But before he did so, the bard seemed to just deflate, radiating only bone deep weariness.

"I'm done. Think what you want," he mumbled, getting up unsteadily. "I don't care."

With that he shrugged his doublet to the floor, threw his boots in the corner, and buried himself under the blankets for the third time.

Holding back from making any further comments Geralt stared at the cocoon of blankets Jaskier had turned himself into. With a worried sigh he bent down to lift the rumpled doublet, folded it as it should be, and placed it on top of rest of Jaskier's laundry.

Little later he too climbed in the bed, careful to leave as much space as possible between them.

Jaskier could feel the heat of Geralt's back even through the blankets and the empty space between them. He couldn't decide if it was welcome or not. It had always been a calming sensation, making him feel safe, but right now it just made him loop their fight on repeat in his mind.

He shouldn't have said anything.

But it was so hard to refuse Geralt. The man never asked for much and when he did, Jaskier always wanted to make it happen. His foolish, foolish heart aching to make the Witcher happy.

Not that this had made anyone happy.

He was half convinced that Geralt would be gone by morning, no matter what he had said about not leaving. Why would he stay when Jaskier was a disaster in making? It wouldn't make sense. Geralt didn't need him. Or love him. There were no such ties binding the Witcher to him. At least the idea of waking up alone didn't create a stab of pain in his heart. It was already hurting too much to register something new.

He hated fighting, in every sense of the word. Yet there he went, shouting at Geralt. The Witcher didn't deserve him to take it out on him. He didn't. In his own way Geralt seemed to be trying to help, now that Jaskier had a little distance to think about it. Why Geralt would bother was a mystery. It'd be so much easier for him to finally ditch his loud, vexing shadow. Wouldn't even have to think of an excuse.

Curling up, Jaskier pressed his palms against his eyes, taking steadying breaths. He trusted Geralt, he really did. So why couldn't he suddenly trust in the things he said? Besides, the man avoided emotions and especially talking about them like the plague, yet he still had started the conversation. That had to mean something, didn't it?

Why couldn't this day just be over?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story seriously kidnapped the original idea I had, ran to another direction right after the 2nd chapter and is now keeping the characters hostage. :""D


	11. Chapter 11

Jaskier woke up to an empty bed and an empty room. He should be feeling something at the realization but he was out of emotions. Drained, not a drop to spare. Done.

No reason to get up either.

So he just laid there staring at the wall, breathing, occasionally running a hand through his hair. He could hear birds outside. He wished they would stop their cheerful singing.

The lock clicked, the door creaked open, and footsteps crossed the floor. Jaskier couldn't find it in himself to turn to see who it was.

"Jaskier?" it sounded like Geralt. But hadn't he left?

Jaskier closed his eyes in response. He could feel the mattress dip as the other man sat down on it.

"I know you're not asleep," probably-Geralt said. "Get up."

No, Jaskier didn't feel like it.

A huff and an annoyed grumble of something he couldn't make out. The mattress returned to its original shape as the weight left it.

Something light bounced off him before rolling to the floor. A bread roll, he noticed in confusion as he finally managed to force his eyes open again.

What?

"Breakfast."

Possibly-Geralt seemed to spot his bemusement.

"I think we should leave this shit city. Already got all we came here for."

And more.

It didn't sound like a bad idea. With some effort Jaskier dragged himself up into a sitting position. It really was Geralt who had entered the room. The Witcher was currently checking his bags, making sure he had packed and organized everything.

He was very particular about where everything was.

In contrast Jaskier's things were still a mess, spilling to the floor, fresh laundry sitting on a pile waiting to be put away. He hated the idea of having to pack. It seemed like a daunting task.

"Pick up your bread. There's more," Geralt gestured towards a tray that did indeed hold simple breakfast foods and a mug of something. "Get moving."

Jaskier mustered the energy to stumble to his feet and limped to take the tray back to bed with him. His foot and bruises seemed to hurt more than yesterday. He wasn't sure how well he would be able to bend down.

His bread remained on the floor.

He worried how Geralt's wound was healing. He couldn't find the will to form the words to ask.

"Can I check your foot and bruises?" Geralt was standing on the other side of the bed.

No, Jaskier didn't want that. He shook his head.

The medical supplies were thrown next to him with excessive force. He could do this.

He couldn't.

Jaskier's back simply refused to contort to the necessary pose to treat his foot. With an agitated hiss he waived to draw Geralt's attention and gestured to his wounded foot.

He hated the experience of Geralt treating it for multitude of reasons.

Getting up to retrieve his boots Jaskier noticed his bags were already packed, only the doublet he had worn still folded on top of them. When Geralt had had time to do it, he didn't know.

As they finally crossed the inn's ground floor to leave, Jaskier saw Rena was on shift and waved her farewell, trying to smile. His lips refused to form one.

In silence Geralt took care of Roach's tack and led her out.

"Get on Roach," Geralt said with furrowed brows and a nod at his precious mare.

That was finally enough for Jaskier to find his voice for the briefest moment.

"You want me to ride her?" he asked quietly, disbelief coloring his voice.

If someone had told Geralt a week ago that he would be beyond relieved to hear Jaskier's voice, he would have told them to mind their own business and promptly dismissed it. Now it was more than true after the unnatural silence. He couldn't be sure, but he guessed the shock of what Jaskier had gone through was finally settling in. It wasn't uncommon to have a delayed reaction like that. He had witnessed it often enough with people who had come face to face with the monsters he was paid to kill.

Once again Geralt was frustrated with himself for not having the practical experience or knowledge of how to help beyond making sure Jaskier would eat and not letting his foot get infected. Aside from those, he'd just have to keep an eye on the bard. And hope he'd snap out of it soon.

Even better if Jaskier started to actually process everything instead of burying it. Just admitting what happened would be a win. Their conversation last night had devolved into a shit show and Geralt didn't know if he should try again at all.

Glancing at the silent bard, Geralt noted the far away stare and the way Jaskier didn't seem to be reacting to the mass of people around them. Definitely shock, the Witcher nodded to himself.

Holding the reins Geralt led Roach towards the nearest exit. He didn't have a destination in mind aside from getting the fuck out of here.

Geralt kept trying to figure out what he could do for Jaskier. Seeing the bard like this was starting to make his chest tight with concern and continuous anger. Jaskier was supposed to be a sunny ball of energy and chatter. Something that made his days more enjoyable, more… more. The bard might have been a pain in the ass, still could be, at first but he had grown on Geralt.

He kept missing Jaskier's voice the longer the bard didn't make a sound.

Jaskier was starting to come back to himself again.

His back was hurting. He had fingers. He was gently swaying. No, he was riding Roach. It was her smooth gait. Blinking, he realized they weren't in the city anymore. Thinking hard he could trace their journey from the inn, he was pretty sure they had also taken a break or two, but it was foggy and felt like he had been watching it happen behind a thick pane of glass. Like it had been someone else doing it.

"Where-" Jaskier cleared his throat. "Where are we?"

Geralt looked startled hearing him talk. "On the road to Dorian. I don't have an actual destination."

"We've been traveling all day, haven't we?" Jaskier checked to make sure his recollection was correct.

"You don't remember?"

"I do, sort of. It's… hazy."

"Had a couple of breaks but otherwise yes," Geralt confirmed. "We'll make camp once I see a good spot."

"Oh," it was nearing sunset Jaskier realized looking at the sky. He really had been drifting the whole day. Weird.

With that he fell silent again, sometimes messing with his hair or turning his head vaguely towards Geralt whenever the Witcher glanced at him to make sure he was still aware. Jaskier didn't feel like looking the Witcher in the eye, not after the last night.

Soon enough Geralt led them off the road to make camp. Dismounting Roach Jaskier hissed when his left foot hit the ground, drawing Geralt's attention again. Shaking his head in a sign to leave it, Jaskier started to unsaddle Roach for the night, taking as much time as possible to fuss over her.

By the time he was forced to admit there was nothing more to do, Geralt had taken care of everything else. Even their dinner was cooking already. The Witcher himself was sitting by the fire, staring into the flames.

With reluctance Jaskier limped to sit across from him, letting the campfire work as a barrier between them.

"How's your wound?" he asked without looking up. The question had been bothering him whenever he had been able to focus on something. Fight or no fight.

The thin line Marden's sword had left on Geralt's throat was close to invisible by now.

"Almost healed," came the simple answer.

It was a terribly awkward dinner. Neither of them wanted to mention the last night but also not able to do much more than try small talk doomed for failure. Jaskier was incredibly grateful when he escaped the situation to sleep. Exhausted, he was out the moment he laid down.

_He didn't know where Geralt was. It was making him feel on edge as he searched the corridors for him, opening a door after a door, all leading to empty rooms. Jaskier didn't know when they had gotten separated. There was something wrong. He needed to find the Witcher._

_The next door opened to show a furnished room and Jaskier stepped in, hoping his search was over. It looked vaguely familiar and someone was suddenly with him. Arms hugged him from behind, hands wandering, hot breath blowing against his ear._

_"Hello, songbird."_

_Jaskier knew that voice. He couldn't move. He couldn't breath. He didn't know how, but Marden was still alive._

_"Won't you sing for me?"_

_A hand was petting his hair, the other one gently stroking his cheek._

_He needed to run._   
_His legs were frozen in place._

_He wanted to scream._   
_He couldn't make a sound._

_"I have your Witcher. I killed him."_

_There was a hand circling his neck, cutting off air._

_"Why did you leave? I already bought you. You're mine."_

_A soft kiss was placed on the back of his head._

_He didn't want this._

_He didn't want this._

_He didn't want this._

With a choked gasp Jaskier woke up, scrambling to his feet.

He needed to get away. He needed to shed his skin. He needed to find a new body. He needed, he needed… Jaskier didn't know what he needed.

Breath, probably.

With tears streaming like a river he stumbled to the saddlebags, falling on his knees next to them. Half blind he rummaged one to find the object he needed.

Grabbing his hair Jaskier lifted the scissors and cut off a handful. And another. The third one was interrupted as a hand wrapped around his wrist.

"Jaskier! Jaskier, stop!"

No, no, he had to cut it. Marden had liked to play with it. He had to get rid of it. He had to.

"Jaskier! Stop fighting!"

He had tried to make it disappear. Tugging, ruffling, carding. It didn't work. He could still feel the hands washing his hair. There was a phantom repeating the action over and over and over again.

Jaskier wasn't strong enough to free his wrist. The scissors dropped to the ground and were snatched away.

"Look at me!"

That wasn't Marden's voice. Lifting his head up, Jaskier tried to blink his tears away enough to see who was talking to him. It was dark but he could recognize the Witcher's face, the gleaming yellow eyes.

Grabbing Geralt's shirt, Jaskier pressed his face against his solid shoulder and gave in to agonized sobs rending themselves out from somewhere deep in his chest and close to his heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SO SORRY THAT MARDEN IS THE ABSOLUTE WORST EVEN WHEN DEAD!!
> 
> But...! We have finally made it through the worst...! 
> 
> Edit: future me has come to tell the sad news that I was mistaken.


	12. Chapter 12

Geralt had been woken up by the restless movements and small sounds escaping Jaskier. The bard was having a nightmare. He didn't know if he should wake Jaskier up or let the dream end by itself. Probably wake him. But before he could do so, Jaskier stumbled up with gasping breaths and headed to the saddlebags. Geralt wasn't sure what he was going to do there, but if it would help, he was glad the bard had the presence of mind to do so.

Until he heard the scissors.

Launching up the Witcher sprinted the short distance, seeing Jaskier frantically cutting his hair. Snatching his wrist Geralt tried to get through to the panicked bard, forcing him to drop the scissors. Finally, finally Jaskier looked at him in recognition.

And grabbed him to practically wail against his shoulder. It was hurting his heart in a way Geralt never knew was even possible.

Slowly, he wrapped his arms around Jaskier in a feather light hug. One that could be broken by the smallest of movements to get away. Not knowing what else to do, Geralt simply kept still and steady. Letting Jaskier to cry his heart out, clinging to him like he was terrified Geralt would disappear or be taken away. He didn't shush or rock the bard, didn't give empty words of comfort. He just simply stayed there for him.

It took a long time for Jaskier to start calming down, sobs turning into shuddering breaths, tears into slow trickle. His grip on Geralt didn't loosen, staying a desperate embrace.

"I'm sorry. For this, for yesterday," Jaskier apologized, barely audible, muffled even more by Geralt's shirt.

"Hmmm," Geralt tried to put all of his own regrets, worry, and will to help into the small hum. He didn't know the right words to express it all.

"How eloquent," Jaskier gave a wet laugh and a squeeze. He seemed to understand.

Geralt had never hugged someone for this long. He didn't mind.

"Geralt, could you… will you… could- could you cut my hair once the sun is up?" Jaskier asked hesitantly, like he was preparing for refusal.

"Yes."

Right this moment Geralt would do so much more if Jaskier would only ask him.

"Thank you."

For a little while longer they sat like that in silence until Jaskier finally lifted his head to look Geralt in the eye.

"Geralt. I have to confess something," Jaskier started seriously. "I think I ruined your shirt."

It was the Witcher's turn to snort in amusement. What were they even doing?

"It's gross. I'll wash it for you but please change. I don't want to think about you walking around covered in my snot," Jaskier continued with a disgusted grimace.

Jaskier still hadn't let go of him. Geralt didn't feel like pointing it out.

He had to look absolutely dreadful, Jaskier thought. Red and blotchy face, puffy eyes, hair uneven. Far removed from perfection. It was a strangely calming realization, being one big flaw, of no interest to anyone.

Letting his forehead fall to rest against Geralt's collarbone, Jaskier suddenly became aware that he was practically sitting on the Witcher's lap, clutching him with a vice-like grip.

Startled, he let go and clambered backwards until he was sitting on the grass, staring at Geralt with wide, nervous eyes. What the hell had he been doing?

Getting up on shaky legs Jaskier started to ramble. "Is it too early for breakfast? I bet it's not. Is there water nearby? I could go get some. Or, or I could wash your shirt. Right now. Hand it over."

He was feeling cold without the heat of Geralt's chest against his.

With a long suffering sigh Geralt also got on his feet. "No. You're not going to get water. You'll just fall and break your neck. Don't you notice it's still dark?"

"...Good point."

With that Jaskier wandered back to his bedroll and flopped down on it, losing all of his energy.

"What am I going to do, Geralt?" he asked in a tremulous voice, curling as small as he could with his aching bruises. He didn't manage to bend far at all.

"Live. Work through and continue on," Geralt answered, coming to sit next to the bard.

"And if I can't?" Jaskier whispered.

"I know you. You're too fucking stubborn little shit to let that bastard keep you down," there was no doubt or hesitation in the Witcher's voice. "And you won't be alone."

It felt strange hearing that. Jaskier might not be able to see how it could be possible, but Geralt wasn't one for platitudes. It gave him some hope. He still didn't want to think how what had happened was affecting him so strongly but there was no way to keep ignoring it anymore. That option had disappeared like a puff of smoke on a windy day.

"You keep saying that. You're really going to stay, even though I'm a useless mess?"

"Yes, Jaskier. I'm not going anywhere," Geralt was fucking tired of repeating the same thing over and over again. "And normally you're running all over the place anyway."

Jaskier huffed with amusement.

"I do keep getting distracted when I see something interesting, don't I? Can't help it. World's a wonderful place." he defended himself. "Mostly."

He still wanted to believe it. Maybe one day he could once more.

They stayed as they were, waiting for the sunrise in silence. Geralt still and quiet, Jaskier trying to keep his breathing steady. Neither wanted to disturb the relative calm that had fallen over their campsite. Eventually the sun started to rise, heralding the singing of birds and the faint sounds of waking animals.

Sitting up Jaskier gestured at his hair. "Could you cut it now? Please."

Producing the scissors from wherever he had stashed them, Geralt stared in Jaskier's eyes, searching for apprehension. He didn't find any. The bard was looking back at him with steely resolution and challenge to change his mind and refuse after all.

"Tell me before you touch," Jaskier said, turning around. "I don't want to flinch and have you accidentally stab me."

"Got it," Geralt nodded. "I'm starting now. You do know that I've never done this before?"

"I don't want to hear any complaints about how it looks," he grumbled without heat as he cut Jaskier's hair, trying his best to make the rest of it match the choppy parts. "Or I'll shave you bald."

"Don't you dare!" Jaskier exclaimed aghast.

"I would."

"I'll compose songs about the most embarrassing things you've done in revenge," Jaskier sniffed haughtily. "How about I finally perform that ditty describing how you wrestled with a worm in front of an audience, mister Mud Wolf?"

"Don't you dare."

"Hah! Looks like we've reached an understanding."

After a while Geralt decided he had done as much as he knew how. It was nowhere close to how skillfully Jaskier's hair had been cut before but it could be worse. Declaring it done, he went to put the scissors back in place and once again took the medical supplies out. He'd be damned if he let Jaskier's foot get infected. Some of the wounds were quite deep. And there already was so little he could do for the bard.

"Can I finally check your bruises?" Geralt asked again without much hope.

Jaskier stared at him for a long moment with a shuttered expression before he gave a jerky nod, looking extremely uncomfortable.

The Witcher blinked in honest surprise as he returned to Jaskier's side, not having expected it.

Jaskier was standing stock-still, holding the hem of his chemise but not making a move to remove it. He was starting to feel the now familiar sensation of cold dread swirling in his chest, trying to break free to envelope him. Closing his eyes Jaskier wrestled it down to manageable size, grateful Geralt wasn't making any complaints for once about how long he was taking.

With a hiss he finally shed his shirt off, making his muscles pull unpleasantly. Wringing the chemise in his hands Jaskier stared at the grass.

"Please, don't touch. Just… don't," his voice sounded strained and thin to his own ears. He could feel Geralt stepping close.

"What did that bastard hit you with?"

"Why? It doesn't matter," Jaskier said defensively.

"What ever it was left fucking welts," Geralt growled.

That explained why those hurt more than the ones from being thrown or the one on his cheek. It wasn't just in his head then.

"Oh. Okay." Jaskier shrugged indifferently.

He could hear the Witcher grind his teeth, probably trying to swallow some comment or another.

"I have a salve you can use for them," Geralt finally spat out.

Such a nice and neutral thing to say. Only tone needed work. Jaskier felt proud of Geralt's self control.

"Thanks," he was already hurrying into his chemise.

Jaskier stuck his foot out before Geralt could ask, staring warily at every move the Witcher made. It didn't take long. It felt like hours.

Returning to their usual morning routines after Geralt took care of his own stab wound, they readied for another day's travel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A hug! The conversation take 2!


	13. Chapter 13

It felt strange to be riding Roach for a second day straight. Usually riding her even for a little while was a rare occurrence. Jaskier tried hard not to take it as pity, having to purposefully redirect his mind away from it. Or other such thoughts trying to suck him in.

It was hard, impossible, to manage. He hated it. And that kept feeding the cycle, making him spiral.

Dragging himself back to present, Jaskier realized he had lost time again. Probably not for long since light hadn't changed that much but Geralt was staring at him with his concerned glower.

"You should try smiling sometime or your face will get stuck like that," Jaskier said to prove he was aware of what was happening around him again. "Oh wait, it already has."

Geralt's glower turned into the annoyed one.

"I've been thinking-" Jaskier started.

"That's a first."

"Rude. I've been thinking that it's been a while since I composed a song," the bard mused.

"You finished the latest one less than a month ago." Geralt rolled his eyes. Or so Jaskier decided from his tone, not actually seeing the Witcher's face.

"Yes, a dreadfully long time," Jaskier agreed. "All I have currently are miscellaneous bits and pieces. Nothing concrete."

"What do you think, a ballad or something rowdier the audience can sing along?"

"Why are you asking me?" Geralt huffed. "You end up working on whichever you want regardless of my opinion. If I even had one in the first place."

"It's called a conversation, my dear Witcher," Jaskier needled him. "Those are useful to pass time, distract from things, or trade ideas and news."

Jaskier needed a distraction from his own mind.

Urgently.

He was again getting anxious, a cold dread churning in his chest, making everything seem too bright, too loud, too close, as he tried to find the danger that didn't exist. He didn't even know what was triggering it, especially so soon after jolting back to present. Or maybe he had shut down because of it in the first place. He couldn't recall.

Jaskier needed a single thing to focus on. And he loved talking with Geralt. Always. Nothing could change that.

"It's been a while since you've written a ballad," Geralt said at last.

"You do pay attention to my songs!"

Silence was the only answer Jaskier received.

"It's true," he nodded. "I should make one. Something about a love not be, instead of using your quests. I may have a specialization but it won't do to become predictable."

Not that his muse would change.

"You do that," Geralt sounded disinterested, not even glancing at the bard.

This was all so normal. Him chit-chatting, Geralt sometimes deigning to answer but mostly staying silent. It was nice. Like nothing had happened or changed. Something to hold on to.

"Talking about quests, are you going to take on a hunt soon?" Jaskier continued.

"Depends."

"On what?"

"If I get paid."

Yes. Very predictable. Jaskier was delighted by it.

"Not planning to hunt a hunt?"

"Do you even hear yourself?" Geralt sounded exasperated.

"I have excellent hearing, thank you very much."

This was fun.

And like all good things in Jaskier's life lately, it didn't last long.

Suddenly Geralt brought Roach to halt, gesturing to Jaskier to stay quiet, and positioned himself so the bard was behind him. The Witcher hadn't drawn his sword so Jaskier tried to take it as a good sign.

He didn't succeed.

Soon the bard too could hear the underbrush rustling and a trio of hunters walked out of the forest.

"Hello there," one of them, the one with dark brown hair, greeted them, coming closer heedless of Geralt's clear if passive hostility. "Where are you traveling? Haven't seen many people going through here lately."

Probably true, they had turned from the road to Dorian very early this morning, Jaskier granted.

"None of your business," Geralt stated coldly.

"No need to be so unfriendly!" the blond haired one said, waving a hand dismissively.

Jaskier's eyes were glued to the movement.

"We're just curious. Don't see many folks like you here," the man continued.

True, again. They were a strange duo, a Witcher and a bard, even in busier parts of the world. Something unique. They always drew stares.

It didn't make Jaskier feel any less nervous. He felt like he was being assessed. Hunters' eyes taking stock of the well cared mare, full saddlebags and a lute. Jaskier could swear he physically felt the eyes looking him up and down, focusing on his expensive if dusty clothes and bruised cheek, wondering how much money they could get from him. For him, should they take him somewhere.

He was scared to blink.

"Now you've seen us. Scram," Geralt said with a clear warning in his voice. He seemed to be one wrong word away from unsheathing his sword.

"Fine, fine! Jeez, aren't you an angry one," the dark brown haired spoke again, lifting his hands placatingly and stepped back. "Got the message, loud and clear."

The hunters continued their way to the part of the woods that was on the other side, crossing the road while grumbling to each other about rude strangers. Jaskier wanted to sigh in relief. He couldn't. Geralt turned to him with a question in his eyes and Jaskier nodded in agreement. They continued to walk in silence.

Jaskier was able to take it only for few minutes until he stopped Roach, hopped off and ran to empty his stomach of what little he had managed to eat.

He could have screamed in frustration if he wasn't still retching, staying up only because he was heavily leaning against a tree. Why the fuck was he reacting like this? There hadn't been any danger after all, no matter what his overwrought nerves kept telling him. No reason for him to get physically ill. Why did he keep overreacting?

"Jaskier!" Geralt barked.

Blinking, Jaskier realized he was standing straight and his right hand was stinging. Looking at it he saw that his knuckles were scraped raw and sporting few small splinters.

What?

"What the fuck are you doing?" the Witcher demanded.

Jaskier would like to know too.

He didn't have the answer.

"I don't know," Jaskier couldn't stop staring at his hand.

Until it was grabbed and he kicked in reflex, heel connecting with something soft.

"Fuck!"

Oh, it was just Geralt.

"Don't," Jaskier wasn't sure it was his own voice forming the word.

"I'll try to warn next time."

Jaskier just nodded in response, wondering where his words were disappearing again. He should probably be more worried about it. But aside from a small twinge he just couldn't muster it.

Oh, hell no. Jaskier's eyes were starting to glaze over again, Geralt cursed internally. The bard had some serious avoidance issues. Even if they had turned involuntary. Which was probably worse.

Not coming up with anything else, Geralt clapped his hands, hard, inches from Jaskier's face. The loud sound startled the bard enough to return to reality.

Geralt's sigh of relief turned into an angry sound somewhere along the way.

"Don't go hitting trees," he snapped. "You're always going on about taking care of your hands."

Jaskier's confused expression told Geralt all he needed.

"Hand," the Witcher ordered, holding his own out. After a brief stare down Jaskier complied.

Good. He hadn't done much damage to himself. Just few small splinters and little scraped skin. Would form into yet another bruise though. Geralt was sick and tired of that. Jaskier didn't have to add new ones to the count himself. Hopefully this was a one time thing.

The splinters weren't driven deep or too tiny to warrant getting pincers, so Geralt just removed them right there and let Jaskier's hand go. It didn't need anything else. Turning around he marched back to Roach seething quietly and keeping an ear out to make sure the bard followed.

Fuck Marden. Fuck it all. Geralt too felt like punching a tree.

He pointed at Roach, silently ordering Jaskier to mount again. Geralt's jaw was starting to hurt from grinding his teeth so hard. But the Witcher knew that if he stopped, he would start shouting and make the situation worse. Better to quietly stew in fury.

Jaskier was silent again but at least he was reacting to things around him, even if it was slightly belated, instead of being completely lost in his own mind. Geralt still wanted to shake the bard to make him chatter again like earlier. It had been nice and normal. Like nothing had happened or changed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...There we go again. :')
> 
> But it's the 2nd morning after Marden so...


	14. Chapter 14

"There's a village coming up," Geralt mentioned. "Want to go around it?"

"No," Jaskier said immediately. "I refuse to turn into a hermit. One of us being like that is enough and the spot is already taken."

Geralt was pleased by the prompt answer. Jaskier had been able to pull himself back together after a few hours, starting to slowly talk to him again. Even if it was mostly empty conversations without any point and lapses back into silence.

It was a relief. Silent and listless Jaskier was simply wrong. There was a strange ache in his chest whenever he started to think about it. It was distracting.

Geralt had to wonder if it was a normal reaction or not.

"We still have enough to stay at an inn," Geralt said. "If they have one we'll stay there. It has been a long time since I last passed through here so that might have changed."

Geralt didn't care at all about deciding without even asking Jaskier's opinion. If he disagreed he would make it known. Maybe not as loudly as normally but the bard had a chronic need to moan about things that displeased him. It seemed almost like a sport to him.

Frustratingly, at the same time he also rarely complained about actual, more serious things that were wrong. Why Jaskier had to be like that, Geralt had yet to figure out.

It made things a guessing game currently.

"That sounds nice," Jaskier agreed. "I always prefer an actual bed over cold hard ground, you know. All of us don't have muscles of steel that don't feel every rock and twig."

And there came the complaining.

Geralt kept leading Roach along the road, not trusting Jaskier to be able to keep focusing on the task. Not that the mare would wander away. But it made the Witcher feel like he was doing at least something to help.

About an hour or so later the village came into eyesight.

Jaskier hated that the idea of strangers made him tense up when he honestly was looking forward to spending the night at an inn. It seemed like his body had developed a mind of its own and kept acting without his permission. After punching a tree without realizing, it was starting to scare him.

There were currently plenty of things he was scared of.

But he'd be damned if he would let that define rest of his life. Like Geralt had said, he kind of was a stubborn little shit. Maybe he could focus that …talent… on himself. Jaskier didn't have a better idea of what to do anyway. He might feel like there was nothing that could help but it probably wasn't true. Hopefully.

It was easy to locate the inn with the way everything had been built around one main road. Jaskier stayed with Geralt while the Witcher cared for Roach, unlike how he normally headed inside to secure them a room and food. He had to admit to himself that he'd need the moral support.

Geralt would be proud of him for acknowledging something being wrong.

Letting the Witcher carry their bags as usual, Jaskier grabbed his lute, determined to perform like always. He had been able to do it at Rena's inn right after getting out of the bastard's hands and he would be able to do it here. His frayed nerves could go to hell. He wasn't giving this up.

Not for anything.

The inn's tavern wasn't particularly inviting but considering the state of the buildings around here it wasn't surprising. There were few customers sitting around, turning to stare the moment they stepped inside. The critical eyes made Jaskier shudder but he still continued to the bar without faltering, Geralt walking close to his back. The Witcher was a calming presence. There was no way for someone to grab him from behind.

"Hello. Do you perhaps have a free room for the night?" Jaskier asked the man cleaning the bar top, feeling foolish for being pleased with the way his voice stayed steady.

"What do you think?" the innkeeper asked sarcastically, gesturing widely around. "We're so full."

Jaskier couldn't stop himself from taking a step away from the man.

"If I draw a crowd would we get one for free? The increased sales will more than cover it," the bard inquired, turning slightly to let the man take a better look at his lute.

"No," the innkeeper said immediately.

"Free dinners?" Jaskier didn't feel up to bargaining.

With a squint the man reluctantly agreed to that, snatched the coins, and handed the keys to Jaskier who carefully avoided touching him.

Jaskier was incredibly grateful Geralt would never congratulate him for being able to get through a simple interaction with a stranger. He was sure he would die from mortification if someone did. Being ashamed of how hard it had been was quite enough without someone rubbing it in his face.

Jaskier practically collapsed on their bed, feeling exhausted. It seemed to be his new default. He needed a nap. Preferably without nightmares.

"I need a nap," he echoed his thoughts.

Geralt hummed in response and Jaskier was suddenly struck with a feeling the Witcher would leave the room. He had asked for that last time, but he didn't want the Witcher to go anywhere now.

"Stay?" Jaskier asked in an embarrassingly small voice, patting the mattress next to him.

He was sure Geralt would refuse. But the Witcher settled down without a word, sitting on the bed and leaned against the wall. The simple act of kindness and companionship was enough to make Jaskier want to cry. His emotions were all over the place. Blinking the threatening tears away, he buried his face in the pillow and hoped for sleep.

Geralt felt unexpected warmth fill him as he watched Jaskier go about his usual way of securing them a room to stay and food to eat. He was clearly struggling, not easy for strangers to spot, but he still was pushing through just like Geralt knew he would. He simply hadn't been sure of when Jaskier would be able to start.

It hadn't been even two whole days since the day of that fucking disaster and Jaskier was already fighting back. It was a good sign.

Geralt wasn't surprised when the bard declared needing a nap, and got ready to leave. That was what Jaskier had wanted last time. Being asked to stay, stay close at that, however did shock the Witcher. Jaskier hadn't shown any desire to be closer than where Geralt's arms wouldn't reach since last night's desperate crying.

And now he asked him to stay only inches away.

Slowly Geralt settled on the bed, careful to not touch, and having no idea what to do. Maybe meditate. Closing his eyes he listened to Jaskier's breathing slow down as the bard fell asleep.

Sitting still Geralt felt the impulse to card his hand through Jaskier's hair, the same way he had done twice before. Apparently something about seeing the bard hurt made him want to try and sooth him through touch. He couldn't help but wonder if he would be allowed to do so ever again.

Geralt was starting to lose his hard-won calm again, thinking about the harm inflicted on Jaskier.

He was briefly disrupted from his darkening thoughts when Jaskier rolled over, facing Geralt. He seemed to be sleeping peacefully. Hopefully it would last. Jaskier was currently even making that endearing whistling sound.

Wait.

Geralt shook his head trying to dislodge the strange thought. The bard might have grown on him like mold that was impossible to get rid of, but he most certainly wasn't endearing. As if to confirm it, Jaskier suddenly kicked his leg. He had been doing that a lot lately.

The whistling was turning into sounds of distress. Another nightmare, Geralt realized getting pissed again. Couldn't Jaskier get a break even in his sleep? Not wanting things to escalate to the same point as last night he got up from the bed to let the bard have some space while waking up.

"Jaskier. Jaskier!" Geralt suppressed the urge to shake him and called out instead. "Wake up!"

With that Jaskier shot up, eyes searching wildy for something, tremor in his hands and a silent scream stuck in his throat. Finally his gaze registered Geralt and it seemed to calm him slightly down. Sagging, Jaskier hid his face behind hands, and took shuddering breaths.

Was uninterrupted sleep really that much to ask for? Jaskier thought frustrated. Just a few hours. That was all he wanted.

"Thanks," he croaked, mouth dry.

Then again, he would rather be awake and miserable than be stuck with Marden in his dreams.

Delightful choices. Absolutely delightful.

Gathering himself, Jaskier got up to collect his lute and walked towards the door. Stopping by it, he looked at Geralt, silently asking if he was going to follow. He got a confirming nod. Feeling slightly better now that he knew the Witcher would come along, he headed back to the tavern.

He might be whoring his voice and music for food and pennies but it was his decision. And he was not going to stop. If it meant he was selling himself then so be it. Jaskier was vaguely aware it was the remains of his nightmare whispering those words but he didn't have the energy to try and shove them away. Easier to just agree for now. He'd work on it later. When his head was clearer. It wasn't the most pressing issue. He wouldn't give music up whether or not the dark thoughts were right or not.

The tavern had filled out since they had retired to their room. Jaskier guessed word had gotten around that there was a bard visiting. Definitely a rarity for the villagers.

There wasn't a central table left free to sit on so he would have to stand for the duration of his performance. Absolutely no problem normally but he was drained and aching. That aspect of the playing wouldn't be enjoyable. Not that it mattered.

What was little physical pain compared to how everything else already hurt?

Giving a short introduction, he began. He might be playing mostly by pure muscle memory but it still wasn't a bad performance. Especially for an audience who very rarely heard a professional in action. Without doubt there were plenty of people among the crowd who never had.

Jaskier was glad he could bring joy and excitement to these people. Those were something that he had lost somewhere along the road here.

Maybe he would find them again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slowly, oh so slowly, Jaskier is starting to work through it all. It's gonna be a rocky road but at least he's finally ready to even try.


	15. Chapter 15

Geralt could tell Jaskier wasn't playing as well as usually.

There was nothing technically amiss, he was hitting all the notes and chords. But it was lacking the pure joy Jaskier radiated when playing for an audience. The bard wasn't even smiling. Geralt had hoped performing would have brought forth the sunny smile he hadn't seen in days now. This was all wrong.

The Witcher had to place his tankard on the table before he could accidentally break it.

He wanted to go to the bard and lift him off his feet. He should be resting, not pushing himself, even if he wasn't dancing around the tables like he liked to do. Hopefully Jaskier would be sensible and keep the performance short. Geralt wouldn't bet on it. The bard had a tendency to get lost in his music, starting to ignore everything not related to it. And lately Jaskier had been constantly spacing out anyway. Maybe he really should go grab, or something similar, Jaskier if he didn't stop within a reasonable time frame.

And try to force him to eat. The bard's lack of appetite was starting to border on worrying, Geralt thought violently stabbing a piece of meat.

Seeing a few people start to approach the bard as he finished the current song Geralt wanted to run to Jaskier's side to make sure he would be fine. He wouldn't. Not until he spotted an actual reason. It still was taking him a considerable amount of self control.

He took it out on his dinner.

Jaskier had hoped he could have played a few more songs before curious listeners would want to talk with him. Apparently the novelty encompassed him as a person also, not just the music. He was torn between wanting to run and the knowledge that he should be enjoying the attention. He knew he should be basking in it.

Following the way he always had acted, Jaskier braced himself for conversations. And being touched. People tended to forget musicians still had boundaries and act like they were old friends. Hadn't really bothered him earlier. Now it was making him break out in cold sweat, holding his lute in front of himself like a barrier.

He could see Geralt glaring at the approaching villagers. The Witcher wouldn't let something happen. He wouldn't.

Each touch he couldn't avoid felt like it left a burn on his skin.

He couldn't handle this.

He couldn't.

Making some excuse or another he hastily left the tavern, running the moment he couldn't be seen.

This time he did have the key.

Slamming the door shut, Jaskier went to sit in the far corner where he could see anyone approaching him.

He knew he was acting irrational.

It didn't help.

He couldn't stop himself from doing it.

But he knew.

Dragging his hands along his head, Jaskier felt his new hair for the first time.

It felt wrong.

It felt right.

He didn't know how it felt.

Geralt entered the room.

That at least felt right without a doubt.

The Witcher sat on the bed, close enough to touch but not trying to.

After a while of shared silence Jaskier reached out  
and took Geralt's hand in his, desperately hoping he wouldn't be refused.

Touching Geralt didn't burn.

Jaskier couldn't look at him.

But Geralt was letting him hold his hand despite the awkward angle and against all odds, letting him have this small solace from fear churning in his chest.

He could breathe a little easier.

Feel a little safer.

He was crying again.

Jaskier was tired of doing that.

He couldn't stop.

Geralt was angry with himself for not having stepped in after all. He should have known that the bard would try to push himself too far. Jaskier had a reckless streak, one that apparently encompassed not listening to his new limits. Fucking idiot. He wasn't helping himself acting like that. Was probably doing more harm than good.

At the same time, Geralt couldn't help but be amazed that Jaskier had reached out for him. It was in distress again, but the Witcher hadn't guessed he would want to do so after being overwhelmed by physical contact. It felt…

Good.

Good to know Jaskier was starting to consider him as something safe again. The bard had never before been frightened by him, not until Marden. While Geralt knew it was an involuntary reaction, aimed at the possibility of being touched, not the person he was, it still was eating at him. Having one of the few people who never had looked at him with fear to do so was harder than Geralt could have imagined.

And now he yet again had no idea what he should do. It was familiar territory by now. Sitting silent and watching Jaskier cry didn't feel right but it probably was for the best. Geralt knew he would just say something wrong. The bard would finish when he was ready. Until then Geralt would hold his hand and let Jaskier decide what to do.

Maybe this time Jaskier would be honest with himself about what he needed. Preferably the bard would also share it with him. Playing the guessing game was getting old, fast.

Jaskier's tears didn't last as long as last night but he didn't loosen his grip. Geralt's hand was grounding, helping him stay present, to think about what happened. He was trying to work on that.

This time he did know what went wrong. Too much, too fast, too soon. He could try to avoid repeating it. An actual cause for his reaction was relieving after muddling through things he didn't know the reasons for.

Maybe there weren't any. Maybe that just was how it would be from now on.

Jaskier shifted to lean against the bed next to Geralt's legs. It was easier to hold hands now. He wished he had the guts to lift his eyes up to see the Witcher's expression. He didn't. Instead he closed his eyes and rested his head on the mattress. It was an awkward angle. He couldn't care less.

"That went badly," Jaskier broke the silence.

"Hmmm."

"I'll try again later. At the next tavern we stop by. I think I shouldn't go back down for another go."

"Agreed," there was vehemence in Geralt's voice.

It was nice that they were on the same page.

"Maybe I could stand on a table. Use it as a pedestal and not step down," Jaskier wasn't sure if he was serious or not. "That way my adoring fans could only dream of getting to touch me."

"You don't have adoring fans."

"Sure I do."

Geralt still hadn't let go of his hand. It was peaceful. Jaskier felt like he could drift off like this. To sleep. Not somewhere out of his body. Geralt was making sure of that with his warm and calloused hand.

"Thank you."

For existing. For being here for me. For not leaving. For just being you. For letting me love you, even if you don't know it.

There were many reasons that Jaskier couldn't share with Geralt. He had to settle for those two words.

"Hmmm."

Still more than the Witcher used.

Jaskier didn't want to move. He was aching and his neck was getting a crick. He wanted to stay like this for the rest of his life.

Geralt tried to sneakily stretch his fingers, probably hoping he wouldn't notice. As much as Jaskier didn't want to, he immediately let go. He refused to make the Witcher uncomfortable with his touch. Even the thought of doing that to someone made him feel vaguely sick.

"Geralt? Can you go outside? Just for a bit. I want to change," they weren't holding hands anymore so Jaskier might as well ask.

The Witcher didn't say anything but he got up and left.

As Jaskier hurried to find something clean and more suitable for sleeping, he could hear Geralt starting to talk to someone. He couldn't make the words out.

Geralt was leaning against the door when a woman approached him, looking apprehensive.

"You're the Witcher aren't you?" she said, stopping in front of him. "The one in the songs?"

Geralt gave a curt nod.

"I have a job for you. I can pay."

Well. Fuck.

By the time Geralt entered the room again, Jaskier had laid back on the bed. He looked pale and drawn, the dark bruise highlighting it. Short hair like a reminder of what was going on. Tired blue eyes were looking at him in curiosity.

"I have a job," Geralt said, getting ready for bed. "A kikimora."

"Ah," Jaskier sounded perfectly neutral. "That didn't take long. Good thing we're passing through."

"I'll do it in the morning. Shouldn't take long."

"You're talking like I won't be with you," the bard frowned at him.

"You're not coming," there was absolutely no way Geralt would let Jaskier anywhere near danger right now. It'd lead to catastrophe for both of them.

"Excuse me?"

"You're not coming," the Witcher repeated with more force.

"How am I supposed to do my job if I don't tag along?" Jaskier was starting to sound agitated.

"You've seen a kikimora before," Geralt grunted. "And you were going to work on a ballad."

"Haven't decided yet. And maybe I need a refresher to be able to describe a kikimora next time I want to use one."

"No."

Shit. They were slipping towards an argument.

Geralt was good at starting them. He didn't know how to resolve them. So he simply shut up, refusing to give in to Jaskier's goading.

It was among the hardest things he had done lately.

Eventually the bard ran out of steam, falling quiet with an angry hiss and refusal for any interaction. It was disturbing how out of character it was. Jaskier seemed to bring that feeling out a lot lately. Geralt could practically feel how tense and worked-up Jaskier was next to him.

"Night," he said, aiming for a truce.

This time it was Geralt who got only silence as an answer.

Jaskier woke up with the first rays of the sun feeling even more exhausted than last night. He had hazy recollection of startling awake time and time again, sometimes from nightmares, sometimes from turning wrong.

He groaned into his pillow.

"Geralt?" Jaskier wondered if his word was incomprehensible with the way his mouth was full of fabric. It was actually quite gross, so he turned his head and tried again. "Geralt?"

"Jaskier," Geralt greeted, not stopping his morning stretches.

"Heading out already?" Jaskier did his best to keep his voice level. He was still hating the idea of not accompanying the Witcher for the hunt, but he had to admit it'd be an awful decision. For once it was a good thing Geralt was such a hard-headed asshole, not caving in.

"Not yet. We'll get breakfast first."

The "we" didn't escape Jaskier.

"What will you do?" Geralt asked, finishing last of the movements.

"Don't know. Probably stay here, work on some poetry," Jaskier contemplated whether or not he wanted to get up yet. "There's not much sightseeing to be done."

"Get up."

Apparently it wasn't his choice. Again.

"So demanding," Jaskier sighed, dragging himself up. He was stiff as a board but it didn't hurt as much as yesterday.

"Out," he added pointing at the door.

Geralt was once again silently staring at him, trying to spot anything wrong before doing as asked. Told. Jaskier was grateful the Witcher wasn't one to fuss and smother.

He had to evaluate that idea again when he stepped out and saw Geralt waiting for him across from the door, instead of having headed down. The Witcher was one to fuss after all. From distance. It was cute how he was trying so hard. Jaskier wished that was all he needed to feel better.

It wasn't.

No matter how badly he wanted.

The tavern was blessedly empty, just one table occupied, when they arrived. Gathering the shreds of his determination Jaskier walked to the bar to order them breakfast. He would re-learn how to interact with strangers. He would. He could do this, he had been able to do it yesterday too. And Geralt was still following him.

The innkeeper from yesterday wasn't on shift today and Jaskier guessed it was his wife's turn. She was the right age and wearing a wedding ring. Sadly looking even more displeased with everything than her husband.

"No," she said before Jaskier had time to even open his mouth. "You won't get free breakfast. Or drinks. Or anything else."

"Good morning to you too," the bard blurted out in surprise at the irritated tone, feeling his heartbeat pick up. He could hear Geralt shift behind him.

"I won't stand for freeloaders."

"I- okay," Jaskier wanted to point out that he had drawn enough customers to fill out the whole tavern last night. That was how traveling bards often paid. It was profitable for both parties.

He didn't.

His hands were starting to shake.

"We're just hoping for some breakfast," Jaskier said subdued in the face of unwarranted hostility, placing coins on the counter. "We'll pay. Of course."

All he got was a sniff and a glare. He wasn't sure if it was meant for him or Geralt. Probably both. The woman turned on her heels and marched to the backroom, so Jaskier guessed their order was being fulfilled. With a quick look at the Witcher, he retreated to a corner table. Geralt liked those best.

Settling into the farthest chair Jaskier rested his head on his hands, trying to calm his racing heart.

"Fucker," Geralt stated, glaring at the doorway.

"Uh-huh," Jaskier couldn't get much more leave his mouth. It was frustrating. The morning had even started as well as it could have. Sans restless night but Jaskier had accepted he wouldn't be sleeping well for a long time.

And now this.

It felt like he was stuck.

He didn't like it.

He had never been one to stay still.

The far too loud sound to be natural of Geralt placing his elbow on the table stopped his spiraling. Loud sounds seemed to work for him. That at least was of some relief, especially since Geralt had realized it. Jaskier wasn't sure if he should trust it to keep working.

Jaskier was low on trust. All of it reserved for Geralt.

They sat in silence until their plates were slammed in front of them. That woman really seemed to hate them. Did she despise them enough to attack?

Smell of food was starting to make him nauseated. He knew he needed to eat. He really did. He even wanted to do it. His body just didn't comply.

"Jaskier," Geralt was glaring at him.

It was embarrassing how the Witcher had to keep making sure he would actually manage it.

But it helped.

Once they were finished, Jaskier followed Geralt out of the inn to get Roach ready. The kikimora was far enough as well as big and heavy so the Witcher had decided to ride there. It should make it possible for him to be back well before sundown at the latest, probably afternoon. Depending on how long it would take to track the monster. Jaskier appreciated it. He didn't want to be alone for longer than necessary.

"Good morning Roach. Did you sleep well?" Jaskier greeted the mare after Geralt had done the same. It was always charming to see Geralt talking to his horse. At first he had tried to hide it but soon gave up and continued doing it without care.

Jaskier kept petting her while Geralt saddled her. Roach was a calming presence. She didn't judge.

Far too soon Geralt was ready to go.

"I'll be back as soon as I can," Geralt said, already sitting on Roach. He was frowning, trying to hide his worry. It didn't work like the Witcher was probably hoping.

"Don't get in fucking trouble when I'm not here to save your ass," he continued.

Geralt always said the sweetest things.

"I'll try," Jaskier answered, trying for levity instead of dread. He knew he wasn't succeeding like he hoped.

Geralt nudged Roach to start walking. Jaskier knew he would go faster once she had warmed up. Besides, he had promised to make haste.

Jaskier kept staring at Geralt's back until he couldn't see him anymore.

He had told the Witcher he would be just fine alone. Now that he was, Jaskier wasn't sure at all. His fingers were already starting to get numb and tingly, chest cold and heavy. He had to get to their room. With that he ran, not caring if he would draw stares.

Jaskier barely managed to slam their door closed when panic swallowed him.

He couldn't get rid of the thought how last time that he was alone, Marden had gotten him. What if he managed to do it again? Geralt wasn't here to help him. He wouldn't be able to fight Marden off.

No, no, Marden was dead. He had seen Geralt kill him. But the king wasn't only one. There were other such people. What if one of them found him?

He couldn't draw air into his lungs.

Panic attack, Geralt's voice whispered, you're having a panic attack. Realizing it helped slightly. This time he knew what was happening. He needed to control his breathing. That had helped last time.

He could do this. His fucking career was basically based on breath control. He could do this. He had to. He would.

Eventually Jaskier started to manage taking slow, hard-won breaths. It was easing the cold tingling he was feeling all over.

Breath, just keep breathing. You're not actually suffocating. You're safe. An eternity later Jaskier was finally sitting up, scrubbing tears away and breathing normally.

Great start he thought. There was still a whole day in front of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier just can't get a break. :')
> 
> But at least he has, had, Geralt.
> 
> BTW, tomorrow's update will happen a bit later than usual since I've got dnd session. Wish me luck, I've never tried it through voice chat before. But what else can we do since we're taking social distancing seriously.


	16. Chapter 16

Geralt didn't want to be on this hunt.

Not when it meant leaving Jaskier alone. As foolish as it was, he hadn't seriously considered what would happen when he was hired. Not until it happened.

Third day. Third fucking day after the bastard. It was too soon. Geralt knew it without a doubt. But he was a Witcher. He couldn't just refuse to get rid of a monster because he had personal business to tend to.

He just had to be fast.

Roach seemed to sense her owner's urgency and did her best to traverse quickly. Geralt had to keep reining the mare in to make sure she wouldn't tire herself out. He appreciated her will to help.

The place the kikimora had last been spotted was still some time away. Which meant he had plenty of time to worry. He hadn't been aware he was able to feel like this before. It was a novelty he could have done without.

Geralt had seen his share of people fresh out of trauma. Being a Witcher made sure of it. People didn't enjoy being almost killed by monsters. It just had never mattered. It wasn't his business or burden to bear. Never spared a second thought.

But now it was Jaskier and the monster was a human.

It would have been easier if it had been a monster. You didn't constantly walk among them. They didn't resonate the same way with humans as other people did. It always was considered more monstrous when there was a murder or other atrocity than an actual monster attack.

Monsters were more straightforward.

And Jaskier… was Jaskier.

Fun-loving ball of energy and dramatics, seemingly flitting from one thing and person to another when something drew his eye. Still ready to stop and listen whenever he sensed something was bothering Geralt. Always loyal. Deeply focused and passionate about his craft and unable to stay quiet. Managing to be both eloquent and embarrassingly awkward. Reckless and stubborn yet running to safety.

Someone who was easy to dismiss as a shallow attention seeker until you got to actually know him.

Geralt too had made that mistake at first.

It was hard seeing the bard stripped of so many of his defining traits. Everything muted and subdued. Forced towards feigned normality.

Geralt wanted to kill the bastard causing it all over and over again. To remove every possible threat. To keep Jaskier safe, far from harm. It kept surprising the Witcher how raw and heart-felt the wish was. Such a strong and honest thing, bordering a need or instinct.

Geralt would rather be at the inn holding Jaskier's hand if that was what the bard needed than hunting a monster.

Bringing Roach to halt he dismounted to look for tracks. He was close enough to the area. With luck the kikimora was still wandering around here.

Jaskier was trying to focus on poetry but it felt like the letters he was writing down were warping and changing into an unfamiliar language. Shaking hands weren't helping either.

He was ready to throw his notebook against a wall.

Probably a sign to stop.

Getting his lute Jaskier sat down on the bed and started to absent-mindedly pluck the strings.

He couldn't bring himself to play actual songs. It seemed like too much effort. He didn't want to fail in the middle of one. Better to just keep fingers busy and try to let the familiar activity sooth him down. He wasn't able to do it for long before he was forced to stop. Even the mindless playing was demanding too much attention.

Maybe he should try to stretch. It would do good for his tense muscles. Jaskier managed barely few minutes before the physical discomfort was making him clench his jaw.

He paced around the room. Sat down on the floor to examine his lute for damage. Stood up to look out of the window. Laid down on the bed. Checked everything was still in the saddlebags. Tuned the lute. Paced. Tried writing lyrics. Paced. Checked his saddlebag again.

His fingers brushed against a smooth surface and he lifted the small hand mirror that he had had since before leaving home.

Jaskier hadn't seen his hair yet.

He was scared to turn the mirror around so he could see himself. What did he look like? Would there be any other changes than his much shorter hair and a cheek with a fading bruise? What would he do if there was?

His breath was getting short again. He made a conscious effort to correct it. His leg kept bouncing.

Jaskier put the mirror face down on the bed. He wasn't ready.

He ran his hands through his hair, testing the new texture. It was unfamiliar. Jaskier's hands were the only ones touching it. He sighed in relief.

There was no phantom. For now.

He wondered if there was a bath available. He didn't want to take one.

He knew he should.

He just couldn't.

Not now. Not yet.

He felt like kicking something.

He kicked a wall. It didn't help.

The mirror was still on the bed. Jaskier lifted it. He kept the reflecting side away from himself. He placed it down.

He lifted it again and flipped it so he could see himself.

Trying to ignore his face, Jaskier stared at his hair. It was as unfamiliar as the texture. He had never worn it this short. He wouldn't be able to style it. It was a bit uneven, some places still shorter than others but it wasn't glaring.

Geralt had done a better job than Jaskier had expected.

He didn't know if he liked the way it looked. Jaskier loved that it wasn't perfectly cut.

He couldn't help but glimpse at his exhausted face. The mirror was stashed away. Jaskier considered if he should go downstairs.

It felt like a terrifying task.

Geralt had found the kikimora's tracks and was leading Roach through the underbrush. It had taken a bit longer than he would have liked but they were fresh. It would save him time, not having to follow them for hours. It had briefly visited the woods.

The terrain also was good for tracking. Soft ground slowly turning into a swamp where kikimoras lived and plenty of plants that showed the passing of the monster. If he kept up like this he might get back earlier than estimated.

Focusing on the wilderness around them, Geralt started to hear faint sounds of the kikimora. Tying Roach to a tree, he continued alone. He had never liked to fight in swaps with their treacherous footing but one fought where monsters lived. Preferences didn't matter. Placing every step with care, almost silently, the Witcher closed on to his prey. Silver sword ready he got close enough to see the monster. It was eating something.

Good. It'd be distracted.

Taking a few more soft steps while downing a potion, he got within range. Attacking fast he scored a cut to its leg. Not where he had aimed, but this kikimora seemed to be a quick one.

Ducking under a violent swipe, the Witcher rended a long wound to its other leg. Better to slow its movements down. Easier to manage the killing blow. The kikimora did indeed lose some of its speed.

Getting into position after having to deflect and avoid a few more attacks, Geralt drove his sword through the monster. At the same time he felt pain flare up in his right shoulder as the kikimora managed to bite him.

Fuck. He would be late getting back to Jaskier.

It was late afternoon and Geralt hadn't yet returned.

The Witcher wasn't exactly late yet but Jaskier was worried. Technically, he had been worried for him the whole day, when he wasn't panicking or forgetting he had a body he was supposed to be connected to, but now he was starting to feel frantic.

What if something had gone wrong? Geralt was alone. There wouldn't be anyone to help. Jaskier needed to go find him. Except he didn't know even the direction.

And he still hadn't been able to step out of the door.

Every time he had tried, he just froze up, unable to do it. He was scared of going among people without Geralt. No matter how much Jaskier cursed himself, he couldn't get over the dread. He was too vulnerable. Exhausted. Weak. Feeling like he might shatter at the first thing that went wrong, no matter how minor. Like a wet piece of paper on the verge of tearing apart.

He hated himself for it.

He should be able to do better.

Like step out of a fucking door.

He didn't want to be this desperately dependent on Geralt. To be a burden.

Biting his nails Jaskier placed his hand on the handle. He hadn't achieved getting farther than this. But he had to look for Geralt. At least wait for him at the stable.

He could do this.

He failed again, having to back away from the door when his heart started to race and breath hitch with fear.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Fuck!

Pacing around the room a few times he tried again.

This time he did manage to open it slightly. Then immediately slammed it shut. Still, it was a new record.

Taking few more laps while destroying his well maintained nails he faced the door and marched towards it. And managed to finally step out. Hastily closing it, he ran to the stables. Legs shaking and worried he would falter, go back if he slowed down.

Once at the stable, Jaskier had no idea what he was doing. He had been so focused on stepping out of that bloody door that he hadn't considered what would come after. There wasn't actually anything he could do for Geralt whether he was standing here or waiting at their room.

He hadn't thought this through.

There were few horses so he wandered to pet their velvety muzzles when they reached towards him to check if he had treats. He didn't. He apologized for it. It seemed like a polite thing to do.

Little later he flopped on a pile of hay, too tired to keep standing. It smelled good. He could see the darkening sky through windows from where he was laying. He kept getting more and more worried for Geralt. He should be back by now.

At one point Jaskier had to scramble up and retreat to a corner when a stable hand arrived to feed the horses. Thankfully the man was indifferent to his presence and practically ignored him.

It took a long time for Jaskier to stop shaking after being left alone again.

It had gotten dark.

Geralt hadn't arrived.

Jaskier didn't know what he would do.

What he was currently doing.

Geralt still wasn't here.

Something was wrong.

He could hear the clip-clop of hooves.

Hooves?

Roach?

Geralt?

Jaskier stumbled up and hurried out on numb legs.

He needed to know.

It was Roach.

Carrying a dead kikimora and blood covered Geralt.

Oh, no, no, no!

"Geralt!" Jaskier hadn't thought he could make a sound. "Geralt!"

He had reached Roach. Geralt was staring at him in surprise, looking pale. They matched.

"Jaskier?" Geralt asked, dismounting with little grace, having to steady himself with a hand on the mare. "What are you doing here?"

What did it look like? "Waiting. You're hurt."

"Hmmm."

Geralt didn't seem very concerned. It wasn't a reliable scale to guess how wounded the Witcher was.

"Let me help," Jaskier knew he sounded desperate. He didn't have the energy to mask it.

Maybe that was why Geralt didn't refuse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They both won their respective battles...! ;w;
> 
> (DnD was super fun even if we had some technical difficulties with the voice chat.)


	17. Chapter 17

Geralt had been able to treat the bite well before returning. He had all the supplies and years of practice. It just had taken a while and slowed him down. Having some help to finish things off wasn't unwelcome however, since the placement was a bit tricky.

It also seemed to calm Jaskier down.

Geralt had been beyond surprised when the bard had dashed out of the stable, having expected him to stay inside the whole day. Apparently Jaskier's worry was stronger than his fear.

Jaskier hadn't said anything after asking what had happened but he had been able to check and re-dress the wound without problems, somehow managing to do it without skin contact, so Geralt tried not to worry about it too much.

He was living in a constant state of worry.

Jaskier was looking worse than this morning, before Geralt had left. While it wasn't anything he hadn't predicted, it was making him want to force the bard to sleep and go throttle the woman who had hired him. He would collect his payment tomorrow morning to avoid actually doing it.

This time he wouldn't leave Jaskier behind.

The Witcher had decided they would avoid human settlements for a while once they left. If there was no one to hire him then he didn't have to go for hunts. Technically it wasn't ditching his duties.

Just seemed like the best plan unless Jaskier started to show signs of needing something else. Geralt's life and decisions felt like they were currently revolving around Jaskier. He should be extremely frustrated about it but somehow he wasn't and, oh, there were plenty of things he was furious about the situation but taking care of the bard wasn't one of those.

All Geralt wanted was Jaskier to get well again.

"Go to sleep," Geralt said, watching Jaskier list to one side. The bard was barely keeping his eyes open, blinking slowly.

In answer Jaskier simply flopped to his side, leaving his legs hanging from the bed. It looked uncomfortable.

"Can't you even try?" Geralt snorted. He wanted to lift the legs to make the bard lay like a normal person.

"No."

Little shit indeed. Finally opening his mouth just to be contrary, Geralt thought fondly.

"Be my guest. Enjoy falling off."

With a long suffering groan Jaskier dragged his legs up. And was out like light.

They had another restless night. Jaskier waking from nightmares in various states of panic and the Witcher trying his best to calm him down.

Geralt was glad when morning arrived. Until he realized that Jaskier was once again listless and disinterested in anything, simply going through the motions out of habit and prompting. Geralt should have known it would happen after how horrible yesterday must have been for the bard. It didn't make it any less painful to see.

That was how their fourth day went.

Jaskier woke up with a relatively clear head. Although, he was kind of surprised that they were camping outside. He felt like he was supposed to know the answer but decided it'd be easier to just ask Geralt. The Witcher was preparing breakfast like the food had personally insulted him.

"Why are we camping?"

Geralt startled so badly he missed the pot and poked the fire with his ladle making sparks fly everywhere.

"Fuck!" he cursed but looked pleased at Jaskier sitting up.

"I finished the hunt, didn't have a reason to stay. We left yesterday," he was staring again.

Felt like it was Geralt's new favorite pastime.

Thinking back, Jaskier didn't have a good recollection of it. But, well, his memory wasn't cooperating lately anyway so he let it go. It would just stress him out. And he was feeling pretty good. He didn't want to make it go away.

"Is that ready?" Jaskier pointed at whatever Geralt was cooking. "I'm hungry."

The Witcher actually did his half-smile at that. It suited him.

"In a minute. Get over here. I'm not bringing you breakfast in bed."

Jaskier stood up and stretched, gratified that his bruises weren't hindering it that much anymore. They were starting to fade away. He didn't need the physical reminders.

"Are we staying here for a while or do we have a destination?" he asked, playing with his sleeve.

"No destination. Do you want to stay?" Geralt asked.

"I think I'd like to stay here. Or, you know, just travel around for a little bit without stopping at towns. Not for long. Just few days."Jaskier thought about it hard before answering. "The quiet is nice. Letting me think."

Geralt nodded. This was what he had hoped. Jaskier trying to figure out what would help. It was making his heart feel lighter.

"Here," he said offering Jaskier a bowl, not starting on his before satisfied that the bard actually began eating.

Jaskier was having a hard time starting a conversation. For a different reason than lately. He just wasn't sure what to say. A novelty.

"This is good," he finally settled. "You must be improving. Usually it's barely edible."

Geralt just looked at him unimpressed. The Witcher knew he was grasping at straws. Jaskier was scared that if the silence lasted too long he'd lose his words again.

"About that ballad, I've decided to actually start on it," that was more natural.

"Wasn't sure before, but it'll suit me at the moment," Jaskier said ruefully. "I don't think I could come up with something resembling uplifting. But I want to keep busy."

"Hmmm," a pleased answer. Geralt seemed to be in a good mood.

"I've got just a concept, barely, for now. …Haven't been able to …focus," Jaskier couldn't bring himself to admit why. Not yet. It hurt too much. Geralt knew anyway.

"It'll be about a man who can't confess his feelings to the love of his life. For while the lady he so adores lives close and knows him, she never spares any thought to his attempts of affection."

Summarizing it that way felt almost like a confession. But Geralt would be hearing the song over and over in different variations while he worked on it. And then in taverns once finished.

Besides, like the lady, Geralt never paid attention to anything bordering on courting that Jaskier had tried. He had accepted it'd stay one sided.

Being close to Geralt was enough.

Listening to Jaskier talk about his plans for the ballad was making Geralt puzzled. Almost like he should know something that kept escaping him. It wasn't the first time Jaskier had composed a song with similar themes, not by close, so Geralt wasn't sure what kept bothering him.

Maybe it was because Jaskier was acting more normal than in a long time. It was throwing him off balance with how nice it felt. The bard was still subdued, not gesturing or smiling, but he was showing actual interest and engagement.

It made Geralt want to smile fondly. He kept his lips from forming one.

"I think I'll start with the melody this time. I already have this short fragment, not even half a minute, that might work," Jaskier continued, putting his bowl down.

He had finished less than half of it, Geralt noticed with displeasure. He'd try to make Jaskier eat it later.

"Lyrics I might start coming up with as I figure the chords out. Or at the most inconvenient times," Jaskier sighed. "You've heard me to suddenly blurt them at the weirdest moments."

Geralt had. The bard had once spouted few verses of poetry while hastily climbing a tree to get away from a monster that had slipped past the Witcher. It had been absolutely ridiculous.

"Are you listening?" Jaskier frowned at him.

"Hmmm."

"Good. I know you secretly like hearing me talk about music."

Geralt wasn't sure Jaskier was wrong. There always was something about listening to the bard be so passionate. Even if the subject didn't personally interest him.

He wasn't going to tell Jaskier.

Geralt was looking at him with uncharacteristic softness in his eyes. Jaskier didn't know what to do with it or the cause. So he didn't say anything and tried to burn the expression into his memory. He didn't want to forget.

Jaskier wondered if he'd be allowed to take hold of Geralt's hand again. He wondered if he even could do it.

He tried to move his hand a bit closer. It didn't work. Jaskier inhaled, squishing the ugly feeling of failure down. It was okay. He wouldn't have held Geralt's hand anyway. He didn't have the permission.

Geralt seemed to notice him tensing up since the soft look was slipping. Jaskier didn't want that. He tried to force himself to relax but, not surprisingly, managed to just make it worse. His fingers were digging deep into the dirt.

"Can I?" Geralt's hand was hovering over his.

Did Geralt, The Geralt, want to hold hands? With him?

Jaskier kept staring at their hands for so long that Geralt started to move his away, taking the silence as refusal. Jaskier still couldn't move his. So he nodded. Geralt stopped moving away and slowly placed his hand on top of Jaskier's. The bard wasn't sure if he had ever seen the Witcher act as hesitantly as he was doing at the moment. Movements slow, eyes searching for any discomfort on Jaskier's face. There wasn't.

Jaskier hadn't been this comfortable since the feast. There were no threats around. Just them and grazing Roach.

Suddenly Geralt's expression twisted into concern and he snatched his hand back. Jaskier didn't know what he had done.

"Jaskier, what's wrong?" Geralt asked worriedly. "I shouldn't have touched."

Jaskier suddenly realized he had started crying. Oh. No wonder Geralt thought he had done something.

"No, it's not that. It's fine. I'm fine," Jaskier tried to find the words to convey the reason. "I just… it feels safe. Here. You. I haven't- haven't felt that since… Since."

This time he was crying out of relief.

Geralt was still frowning but he started to move his hand towards Jaskier's again. Somehow the Witcher managed to do it even more carefully. Intertwining their fingers Jaskier lifted their hands with just as much care so he could rest his forehead against them.

Right now he was safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier is finally having a good mental health morning...! ;w;


	18. Chapter 18

Jaskier felt like a duckling.

He kept following Geralt everywhere, not wanting to be alone even for a minute. Geralt went to gather firewood, he came along. Geralt went to get water, he trailed behind. In any other case it would have been hilarious. Now it was desperate.

But the Witcher didn't seem to mind. Jaskier would have thought it'd drive him crazy but the man had just shrugged and didn't mention it. Maybe Geralt felt bad about having left him behind to hunt that kikimora. He didn't need to. It was Jaskier's own problem that he had fallen to pieces. No one else to blame that he couldn't just get over what had happened. He should be able to. It hadn't been that bad. Nowhere close to his nightmares. And those were just that, dreams. It had been closer to a week now anyway.

Jaskier didn't know what to do with the fact that Geralt was suddenly the patient one.

The Witcher was currently doing maintenance for his various weapons, examining each one with a critical eye. Jaskier was laying on his bedroll, open songbook resting on his stomach and pen discarded. He had meant to start on the ballad's lyrics after all but soon found out he was too tired to concentrate. It was annoying how draining light activities were now. He had just walked around for a bit with Geralt. So he just kept his eyes closed and listened to the birds around them.

"Songbird."

"What?" Geralt whipped his head to look at Jaskier.

"Songbirds. They're around us, singing," the bard continued, not moving. "They sound beautiful."

"I've been called one before too. Wasn't very unique …endearment… to use. That's just what people see when they look at me. Colorful, preening, and flighty. Blessed with a pretty voice. Enjoyable entertainment for an hour or two before moving on."

"Never bothered me. I like birds. But I'd rather be called Dandelion, Buttercup is fine too, it's literal. I did choose my name," Jaskier hadn't opened his eyes yet. It was easier to talk like this. It was already hard. "I know I'll be called Songbird again. It's not like people ask for my opinion."

Geralt wasn't sure if he was supposed to say anything. So he didn't.

"Could you call me that a few times? I don't want Marden's voice to be echoing strangers' when it gets used again," Jaskier was terrified of Geralt's answer. He'd probably think he was making a big deal out of an insignificant issue once again. He had always had a habit of doing so.

"If that's what you want," Geralt said slowly. "Songbird."

Jaskier couldn't help but shudder and tense up. "Thank you."

He could feel Geralt's eyes on him. Jaskier refused to open his. He didn't feel like talking anymore either. So he just breathed and ran his hand through the grass, letting the sun warm him.

His heart was cold.

Jaskier's words were digging in like burrs. Geralt had been one of those people. It was the assessment the Witcher had made when he first laid eyes on the bard. Without taking the brief enjoyment of the performance. Only judging. Geralt wondered if Jaskier thought that before Marden or if it was a recent addition.

There was acceptance in the bard's voice. It made the Witcher clench his fist around the dagger he was holding.

Geralt had never thought being a bard would come with its own problems. Not with the way Jaskier sincerely loved being one, always talking about positives, basking in the attention it granted.

He should have. Nothing in this world was as good as it seemed.

There was nothing to be done about it either. Geralt couldn't affect how Jaskier was seen or how he was talked about. He would just have to… accept. And make sure Jaskier wouldn't believe it to be true. It wasn't. The bard was so much more than that.

Placing his dagger down, Geralt observed Jaskier. He was just laying still, gently feeling the grass he carded fingers through. He would have looked peaceful if not for the tightness around his closed eyes and downturned lips.

When would Jaskier smile again? It felt like years had passed since Geralt last saw it. He missed it. A lot. It always made the bard's whole being light up. Made Jaskier look even more beautiful than norma-

Oh.

_Oh._

_Fuck._

Jaskier could hear Geralt take a sharp inhale and hold it in. He quickly sat up scanning the area in trepidation, trying to see what had taken the Witcher off-guard. That wasn't an easy task to do. Something had to be really wrong. He couldn't spot anything. Jaskier's heart felt like it was about to rip itself out of his ribcage with its frantic beating.

His fingers were tingling.

"What's wrong? Geralt?" Jaskier whispered, scared to draw attention. "What's happening?"

"Nothing," Geralt sounded strangled. "Calm down. Everything's fine."

"But…" you were startled. Jaskier didn't finish. He couldn't stop inspecting the forest around them. It suddenly felt like he was observed.

The safety was gone. He wanted it back.

"Jaskier. Look at me."

He couldn't. Something, someone, might get close.

"Jaskier!"

There was a snap in the forest. Jaskier jumped up. He needed to be ready to run.

"Calm down! Nothing's wrong!"

A loud clap next to his ear. Jaskier whipped his head to look at Geralt, blinking rapidly.

"You with me?"

Jaskier wasn't completely sure. But he recognized Geralt. And where he was. And that there wasn't actually anyone approaching.

"Ah. Hmmm," Jaskier's tongue was heavy. "Yeah."

The Witcher gave a deep sigh. "Good."

Jaskier wasn't sure what was good. He was scared and unsafe again. He wanted it to go away.

He stepped closer to Geralt, lifting his arms in a silent question. The Witcher nodded.

Jaskier grabbed Geralt's shirt with both hands and pressed himself against his chest, burying his head under Geralt's chin. Jaskier could feel every breath. Hear the slow heartbeat. Smell the familiar scent. Let himself be warmed by the body heat. Geralt placed his hands gently on his back. Jaskier shook his head, that was too much. The hands retreated.

Human heart could never beat as slowly as a Witcher's. But it was a calming rhythm, one that made Jaskier's blood stop rushing in his ears, tingling leave his body, hands stop shaking.

He was starting to feel faint, adrenaline leaving him. His legs would have buckled if Geralt hadn't been there to cling to. The Witcher had to have felt the sudden tug since he sat down, bringing Jaskier to the ground with him.

Jaskier let go of Geralt to place his head between his legs, not wanting to faint for real. There was blackness shimmering in his peripheral vision.

"Are you okay?"

Jaskier was busy staying conscious so he just stuck his thumb up.

"Jaskier, I'm going to get you water. I'll be back in less than a minute," Geralt said, getting up. "Literally."

Jaskier gave an indistinct mumble in answer but didn't protest. He knew where their waterskins were. Geralt would just take a few steps. He wasn't leaving.

Fuck me, Geralt thought disgruntled. Only he could realize being in love with the bard and immediately send Jaskier into a panic attack.

Geralt knew he wasn't good with emotions. He hadn't thought he was this bad.

Grabbing the water he returned to Jaskier's side. The bard had lifted his head again, looking alert. Jaskier really needed to start taking better care of himself or he would end up having spells like this regularly.

Unacceptable.

Geralt thrust the waterskin into Jaskier's hand, sitting in front of him with a deep frown. The bard took few small sips before straightening his back, not looking as deathly pale as a minute ago. That was better.

"What happened?" Geralt had no idea what he had done. But the timing couldn't be a coincidence.

"I thought someone had gotten here," Jaskier said hesitantly, repeatedly uprooting grass and letting it slip through his fingers in a nervous tick.

That didn't make sense. "Why?"

"It's stupid. I just read the signs wrong, that's it."

Jaskier had been doing better with not avoiding everything. And now this. Ripping something did sound nice. Maybe the bard had the right idea about the grass.

"Tell me," Geralt knew irritation was bleeding into his voice. He couldn't help it.

Jaskier stayed silent for a long while. "It's… I heard you being taken off-guard. That's really hard to do."

Shit. It really had been his fault.

"I just overreacted."

Geralt wouldn't say it outloud but that was exactly what the bard had done.

"You do realize I make sounds, don't you?" that came out weirdly, Geralt had to admit.

"Yes Geralt. People tend to do that," Jaskier looked at him with something bordering on sympathy.

"Then don't listen," even worse. Now the bard moved on to pity.

With a disgruntled sigh Geralt tried again. "Don't overanalyze every sound I happen to make. They're just that. I'll use my words if there's a threat.

"I'll try," Jaskier said, abashed.

It wasn't really the bard's fault for being hyperalert.

"I know."

It was strange how everything yet nothing had changed when Geralt figured out he was in love with Jaskier. No matter how hard he tried to pinpoint the moment it had happened, he couldn't. His fall for the bard had been too gradual, too subtle, too …uneventful, for a lack of a better word. Jaskier had just suddenly forced his way into Geralt's life and continued from there, breaking barrier after barrier around the Witcher's heart until he was an irreplaceable part of it.

If nothing else, it explained a lot of his reactions lately, Geralt mused. Now he'd need to choose what to do with his feelings. He knew Jaskier was interested in men as well as women, so that at least he wouldn't have to worry about.

Whether or not it included him was a different matter. He wasn't even a human, after all.

The next morning they continued on. There was no reason to stay and as much as Jaskier had tried to hide it, he wasn't comfortable anymore. His brief feeling of safety had been broken and he couldn't stop being anxious. Nails bit down to the quick agreed.

Jaskier was walking next to Geralt, holding Roach's reins and leading her along. Or maybe Roach was leading him. It was probably closer to the truth with the way he kept getting lost in thought. Aware and present, just occupied. It was hard to concentrate, one idea turning into another almost faster than he could even grasp what it had been.

It was tiring him out.

Maybe he should give up on thinking.

But Jaskier had never been good at quieting his mind. There was always too much vying for his attention. Too much going on around him, too much going on in his head. It never stopped amazing him how still and steady Geralt could be. Like a rock. No need to constantly fidget or talk. It was nice. Something to lean on. Occasionally even literally.

There were birds singing around them.

Jaskier whistled in answer.

"Trying to turn into one, Songbird?" Geralt said amused.

Air left Jaskier's lungs and the whistling died down. He had asked Geralt to call him that, hadn't he? It would just take him time to get used to it again.

"Flight would be an amazing skill," Jaskier mused. "It'd make traveling so much easier. And the sceneries I could see."

"Hmph. Staying on the ground is enough."

"Of course that's what you'd prefer, you rock."

Geralt gave him a strange look but decided to let it go. The bard said weird things all the time.

"Geralt. I think- I think you-" Jaskier couldn't get the words out. He'd choke on them. Get swallowed by them. No. He wasn't ready to say it. Not ready to form the thought. He didn't want to drown.

"Jaskier?" all of Geralt's attention was focused on him.

"It's nothing," Jaskier's voice sounded feeble, like the smallest breeze would blow his words away. "Don't worry about it."

The Witcher looked like he was fighting against a retort. He won and stayed quiet but didn't avert his eyes away.

They continued on for another hour until Geralt declared they'd take a break. Jaskier tried not to feel guilty for being the reason. He had started to lag, their slow pace coming too much to bear. He really needed to start eating better, Jaskier thought ruefully. And sleep. Oh, what he wouldn't give for an uninterrupted night. Maybe then walking few hours wouldn't drain him like this. At least they didn't have anywhere to be.

Leaving Geralt putter around Jaskier went to lean against a tree, resting his legs in front of himself and lute on his lap. He didn't know if he would actually play but feeling its weight was relaxing. Normal.

Air smelled green with early summer. Birds were still singing and if he strained his ears he could hear a babbling brook. Jaskier wasn't sure how Geralt kept finding places like this. Probably some unknown Witcher magic. He appreciated it.

"Here."

Jaskier startled violently, accidentally throwing his lute at the sound in defense. Geralt easily grabbed it, barely letting it leave the bard's lap.

"Don't… do… that!" Jaskier wheezed, placing a hand against his racing heart.

"Didn't realize you had nodded off," there was only the slightest twinge of regret in Geralt's tone.

"Here," he repeated, handing Jaskier lunch.

"Oh. Thanks."

They kept enjoying the summer sun in silence until Jaskier eventually hefted his lute in position and played the short mournful fragment he was planning to use for the ballad. It hurt. He really had done a number on his fingertips yesterday. There was a reason why he kept his nails immaculate and it wasn't only for vanity's sake. With a displeased grimace he poked at the tender flesh.

"Next time I try to bite my nails you better stop me," Jaskier winced. "I'm not joking."

"Noted."

"Jaskier. What were you going to say earlier?" Few more silent minutes had passed before Geralt finally asked what he had been wondering.

"Nothing," Jaskier didn't want to do this now.

"Didn't sound like it."

Couldn't Geralt take the hint and let it go?

"Strange. After all I didn't really say anything," Jaskier didn't want to snap at the Witcher. It just was hard not to when everything was so _much_ all the time.

"Shit, Jaskier! You sounded like it was important," Geralt growled. "You don't get to keep pushing me away!"

"You've got two legs. Use them to fuck off then!" Jaskier wasn't sure why he was doing this. He didn't want to hurt Geralt just because he was hurting. Yet here he was, trying to draw blood with his words. "That way I don't have to keep doing it."

"How many fucking times do I have to tell you I'm not fucking off anywhere?" Geralt yelled back, fire in his eyes. "You're being a real bastard Jaskier!"

"Fine. I'll just get the hell away from you!" What was he doing? Jaskier didn't mean it, didn't want to. Yet suddenly he was on his feet storming off without a look back.

He could hear the Witcher curse him out but not follow.

Good.

Geralt didn't deserve having to take care of the pathetic disaster he had turned into.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I just write a chapter that's few words longer than the whole 3rd part of this series? 
> 
> Why, yes, thank you for noticing!
> 
> ...These two... ;w;


	19. Chapter 19

Geralt was sick and tired of this.

He tried to be patient, be calm, be considerate, probably harder than he had ever tried in his whole life, yet every time he thought Jaskier was making progress something would happen. And the bard would be sucked back into whatever dark place he was habitating. It made him mad at the world, at Marden, at Jaskier. At himself.

Geralt wished this was a problem he could take care of with few well placed slashes of his sword. But the only part that would work on was already dead. At least he had been the one to kill the sick fuck.

He hadn't made it painful enough.

Geralt felt like he kept walking on eggshells and crushing them under his heels. He was making this all up has he went. He had no idea if he was doing the right things. Jaskier hadn't talked about what had happened since the first two nights. He wasn't sure if the bard was afraid it'd just lead to a fight, or still unable to admit everything to himself. Geralt had after all majorly screwed up the first attempt.

As much as Geralt avoided emotional talks, he probably should try again. He might have once again fucked up but Jaskier had clearly tried to tell him something before shutting off.

The Witcher was following Jaskier, keeping some distance between them. They both needed it. Better to keep an eye out for the bard from here where they couldn't really interact but would take only seconds to get to him if something happened. Geralt wasn't going to let Jaskier out of his sight.

Geralt wasn't sure he wanted to ever again.

Geralt ended up following him after all. Jaskier reluctantly had to admit he was incredibly relieved. Maybe he had had to prove to himself that Geralt really wasn't going to ditch him? Seemed like a cruel thing to do. Jaskier wasn't sure what had pushed him to it. Jaskier wasn't sure of why he did many of his actions lately.

He wasn't even sure how he felt. He was numb again. It was so much easier than trying to muddle through all the rapidly changing emotions. If he just shoved everything under a rug he could function.

He liked being able to function.

Keeping track of things around him was nice. Not having holes in his memory was nice. He didn't want to startle back into reality only to realize he wasn't where he had left. It was disconcerting.

His foot started to hurt again. He had probably walked too much. It was mostly healed but tender. He should ask for a break or if he could ride Roach yet again. He wouldn't. He didn't need it. He could just shove that too under the rug to join every other unpleasant thing.

Jaskier couldn't bring himself to care. He just wanted this shit show to be over.

But no, of course it kept going on. It was him after all. Jaskier had always been a heart first, logic second type of man. Usually it worked for him. But now, now he would like to just shut his heart off if it was possible. It might help. Maybe then he could think of what Marden had done without feeling like he was about to shatter. But he couldn't. So he kept skirting it, only examining it for the briefest moments before backing down.

It was enough that he acknowledged what was happening now. What had gone wrong with him. Try to figure out how to get over those.

Jaskier liked being able to function.

Geralt was walking closer now. Maybe the Witcher had noticed that he was slightly limping again.

Geralt could still go and fuck off. Jaskier wanted to hug him and never let go. It was confusing.

He didn't like it.

At least loving Geralt was still as easy as ever.

That would never change.

He just didn't know what he wanted.

Or needed.

Jaskier wiped a few frustrated tears away, hissing in anger. His rug was starting to be too small. Jaskier doubted there was a way to buy a bigger one. He didn't know what would happen when he couldn't sweep things away anymore.

Nothing good probably.

He didn't know what could be worse than now.

He didn't want to find out.

Jaskier needed to get clean.

There wasn't water around.

He settled on scratching his forearms.

Didn't really help.

That was a familiar situation.

His fingers were tingling again and stomach churning.

Jaskier kept walking.

To hell with this. Something had changed in Jaskier's posture and it was rising red flags for Geralt. Hurrying up, he started walking next to him. The bard briefly glanced at him with bloodshot eyes and an angry expression. He didn't look daunting at all. At least he was present.

"Get on Roach," Geralt said as neutrally as he could.

Jaskier practically hissed at him like an angry cat and walked faster.

"Now," Geralt got in front of the bard, leading Roach to stand sideways and block the path.

Jaskier promptly turned on his heels and started marching back to where they came from.

"Seriously?" Geralt repeated the move, making Jaskier change his direction again. This was ridiculous. Like herding cats. Except it was one irate bard.

"Do you want to make Roach keep walking in circles?"

That made Jaskier stop moving. Good thing the bard adored her.

"Piss off Geralt. I know you want to."

Ah. They were still there. Geralt forced his fists open.

"I won't," he ground out. It was beyond frustrating how the bard seemed to be stuck in a loop. "Jaskier. You're not alone. You won't be alone. No matter how much you curse at me. I'll cuss back but will not leave you."

There was the slightest softening in Jaskier's expression. Good. He was doing something right.

"Now, get on Roach. She misses you," Geralt fought to keep a blank face at the way Jaskier's changed from anger to disbelief. They had a brief staredown before the bard complied with a frown.

That took care of one problem.

There was just a mountain left.

"Want to talk about it?" that seemed like a safe bet, Geralt considered. Something that couldn't be taken offensively.

"No."

Well. Shit.

"Fine," Geralt truly had such a great skill with words. He would like to borrow some from the bard. Maybe then he could figure out a way to get inside Jaskier's defenses. He needed to.

Geralt didn't know how to, so they kept traveling and camping for the night in a sullen silence.

Waking up, Jaskier felt like he should feel different. It had been a week. A week since the clusterfuck of a feast. Seven days since Marden.

He didn't.

Everything was still the same. No sudden changes. No overnight healing. Jaskier would have liked one. Where was the magic of seven days like in the stories?

Nowhere to be found, that's where.

"Morning," Geralt greeted him, noticing he was awake.

Jaskier wasn't ready to face anything. So he simply turned to his other side and closed eyes again. This time Geralt didn't pester him to get up. So he didn't. Just let the sleep drag him down, hoping for a couple hours without nightmares.

Next time he woke up it was nearing noon.

He closed his eyes again.

"Jaskier. Come on," Geralt's voice was bringing him back into the waking world. "You need to drink something. And eat."

"Hmphff," Jaskier didn't want to do anything. It all seemed too much effort. Curling up, he tried to ignore the Witcher.

"Get up."

He didn't have the will.

"Jaskier," there was a warning in Geralt's voice. "I'll dump water on you if you don't pull yourself together."

He didn't have enough energy.

"Now."

The next moment there was a stream of water hitting Jaskier's face, making him splutter. He rolled away from it, not bothering to even sit up.

"Stubborn bard!"

The water followed him.

His bedroll and clothes were getting wet.

It felt uncomfortable.

So he finally freed his hands from the blanket and slowly sat up. He would have liked to glare at Geralt. He just blinked lethargically.

Stream of water stopped. Geralt had been emptying one of their waterskins over his head. Now he was just frowning.

"Are you okay?"

"Hmmm. Yeah," Jaskier's words felt as sluggish as everything else. "Just tired. Let me sleep."

"No."

"Why?"

"Shit, Jaskier! It's afternoon," Geralt sounded worried about it.

"So?" Jaskier wasn't sure what the problem was. They obviously weren't traveling today. No need to think about the time.

"You haven't eaten or drank anything since yesterday," Geralt sounded really concerned. "Let me check if you have a fever?"

"I don't have one," he really didn't think he had one. His head was just filled with fog. But it explained why the Witcher was bothering him. "I'm tired. I'll eat later, ok?"

"Fuck you are!"

Jaskier didn't know how it happened, but there was a bowl of soup sitting in his lap and a spoon being shoved at him. He took the spoon. He didn't know what else to do with it.

"Eat!" Geralt spat before heading to their bags. Probably to switch the empty waterskin to a full one.

Jaskier plopped the spoon in the soup and briefly stared at it disinterested. Placing the bowl next to him on the ground he decided the wet blanket wasn't that bad and drew it around himself, flopping back on the grass.

Geralt gave a strangled yell of frustration, standing next to him again. Another splash of water hit Jaskier's head.

"Do you want me to fucking force feed you?"

Jaskier most definitely did not. He shook his head.

There was a pause and he started to think Geralt had finally given up. He was wrong.

"If you eat and drink, I'll let you check my shoulder is healing right."

Bastard. Figuring out how to bribe him. Now he had to dredge up strength to do so. He wanted to ask Geralt to help him sit up. He didn't. His skin itched at the idea.

Jaskier sat up with an exhausted exhale and did his best to do as told before making grabby hands at the Witcher's shoulder. He really did want to make sure the wound was fine. Geralt was looking displeased with his efforts but let him check and re-dress the wound. It was doing well. Jaskier was incredibly glad for Witchers' accelerated healing.

"Can I go back to sleep now?" Jaskier aimed at sarcasm but landed at pleading. He was done for the day.

"No."

Before he could ask why, Geralt continued. "Your clothes are damp. Change. You're not going to catch a cold since you don't currently have one."

"And whose fault is that?" Jaskier couldn't stay silent.

"Yours," Geralt said, throwing clothes at the bard. "I gave a warning."

He had. Jaskier should know better than to think the Witcher would bluff. But he'd never agree out loud.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof, the 1st "anniversary" (weekversary?) hit Jaskier over the head, huh...
> 
> Remember when I thought this would be max 20 chapters? AHAHAHAHAH, no.


	20. Chapter 20

Geralt was vexed that Jaskier was still deeply depressed the next morning. He had hoped his mood would have improved during the restless night but reality wasn't that kind. Maybe hitting the first full week had impacted the bard. Geralt didn't know.

At least he had been able to get Jaskier start moving around by telling him to take care of Roach. It was calming to see the bard do something, anything, else than try to sleep the day away. And hear him talk. Out of everything, Jaskier's silence and distancing were the most disturbing and worrying changes.

It made Geralt want to take Jaskier into his arms and not let go until the bard felt safe again. He hated not daring to offer physical comfort. Not without the bard initiating it. Geralt might not be the most tactile man, or used to it, but he didn't have a real problem with it.

Especially when it was Jaskier.

He was missing all the casual touches he had barely acknowledged until they were gone. Suddenly there were no pats on the shoulder, no arms brushing, no leaning against each other, nothing. It left him with an emptiness. Made him realize just how much the bard relied on touch.

Fuck.

That wasn't good.

It hadn't been good at any point but figuring out Jaskier was hating, fearing, one of his major ways of interacting with people around him made it worse.

Maybe he should try holding hands again. Jaskier had liked it last time.

The bard was currently hugging Roach. She at least gave what he couldn't. Geralt had never imagined he would be jealous of the mare but here he was, wishing to be the one receiving that hug.

"Ready to go?" he asked bringing last of their bags. Geralt wasn't going to let Jaskier act like yesterday and keeping him moving was the easiest way to make sure of it.

"Yeah."

Jaskier didn't lift his face from Roach's mane so Geralt just fastened the saddlebags in place and waited. They weren't in a hurry.

One more shuddery breath and Jaskier pushed away from Roach, giving her one more pat. He got a soft huff in thanks.

"Which way?" there wasn't actual interest in the bard's voice. It probably didn't matter to him where they'd go.

"East," Geralt recalled there was a river they could follow. It'd eventually lead to a town but it'd be easy to go around if so decided. Change in scenery would be nice.

With that the Witcher handed Roach's reins to Jaskier and started to lead the way.

All the colors were leached out of the world, leaving everything dull and bleak. It didn't fit the sunny day. They had been having a lot of those lately. Jaskier wondered when they'd get rained on. It was only a matter of time before weather would change. He was kind of hoping for it. Then the contrast wouldn't be so noticeable.

His legs were heavy and thoughts slow.

Jaskier wished Geralt had let him just sleep the day away again. Yesterday hadn't been too bad thanks to it.

Much better than today.

Now he was trudging after the Witcher's back, not caring where they went. Every movement took far too much energy.

He had to make sure Roach wouldn't wander away.

She wouldn't.

He wasn't needed.

But Geralt's trust had been placed in his hands with the reins. So he had to make an effort.

Sneaky Witcher.

Making him responsible for the most important being in Geralt's life.

Now he couldn't just give in.

So Jaskier kept walking. He didn't manage even an hour.

Jaskier didn't know if it was the mental or physical exhaustion but he was starting to shake, head hurting. He couldn't bother mentioning it to Geralt but he Witcher spotted it anyway and brought them to halt.

"What's wrong?"

Geralt kept asking that all the time.

"Nothing."

Maybe his answers encouraged it. But it really was nothing. Nothing of consequence at least. Nothing that mattered or to worry about.

"Cut the shit, Jaskier."

Geralt didn't seem to agree. He should.

Jaskier looked the Witcher straight in the eye. "It's nothing. I'm tired. You already know that."

Geralt's jaw was doing the thing that always happened when he tried not to yell. It was a kind attempt. Jaskier knew he did deserve being shouted at, he was being an asshole.

Geralt should just get it out and over with.

It would make the Witcher less stressed. Jaskier knew he was making Geralt's life difficult.

"Sit," Geralt growled pointing at the ground.

Jaskier did.

There was a hard biscuit shoved into his hands and Jaskier wondered if Geralt had a pocket dedicated for them now. The Witcher kept whipping biscuits out at the drop of a hat. And nuts. Passing by? Drop a few nuts and dried berries in his hands. Sit next to him? Present a biscuit. Couple feet away? Throw a waterskin.

With a sigh Jaskier nibbled at the biscuit as Geralt glowered at him. He really didn't see what the big deal was.

"Jaskier," Geralt paused, as if not knowing what he meant to say.

"That's my name," Jaskier would have liked to clap but his hands were heavy and holding the biscuit. "Congratulations for not suddenly forgetting."

"Shut it," there was no heat in Geralt's tone. "Just… tell me if you need a break. Or want one. Stop pushing yourself."

If Jaskier stopped doing that he would never again get up.

"Sure."

Geralt didn't seem to believe him but let it slide. Good. Geralt also refused to move until the biscuit was finished. Less good. They stayed put for a long while.

Jaskier had to admit the slight change in scenery was welcome. A slow running river had appeared on their left side as they continued on the forest path. Its sound was something new to focus on, calming at first. Now it kept dragging his attention back to it, regardless of what he tried.

Jaskier felt incredibly filthy.

He had never kept from washing for this long. And the last bath he had, had left him feeling dirtier than ever. Even the briefest thought of it made his skin crawl.

He couldn't scratch the feeling away.

He needed to get clean.

Geralt probably wouldn't mind if they stopped for a bit. He had tried to impress the point of taking breaks earlier. This should qualify as one.

Soon enough Jaskier spotted a small cove coming up. The riverbanks were low, easy to get close to the river. The current slow, water clear and glittering. Inviting. Stopping at the bank Jaskier considered the water. It looked shallow, probably mid-thigh, showing river bottom formed from colorful pebbles. He should probably take his shoes off, bathing in them would be hell on the leather. Silks too. But Jaskier didn't want to take the time needed for it. He just wanted to be clean. So he hopped in, only to realize three things.

He hadn't actually said any of that outloud to Geralt.

The water was way deeper than he had thought.

This had to look really, really fucking bad from Geralt's point of view.

Jaskier was seriously regretting his lack of impulse control.

Jaskier had dismounted Roach a while ago, leaving her to Geralt's care. Apparently he had wanted to take a closer look at the river. Now that Geralt paid attention to it, it was a pretty scenery.

And then Jaskier jumped.

Geralt could feel his heart skip a beat in utter panic.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, _FUCK!_

He hadn't thought Jaskier was at that point.

Letting go of the reins, Geralt sprinted as fast as his legs could carry him and dived after the bard. He _was not_ letting this happen.

By the time he submerged, Jaskier was already treading water. A slight relief. The second Geralt surfaced, he grabbed the bard and dragged him back to the dry land.

Geralt didn't know if he wanted to yell, cry, or kiss Jaskier senseless in attempt to convince himself the bard was still alive. He settled on being absolutely furious.

"What the fuck were you doing?! What the fuck were you thinking?!" Geralt couldn't keep himself from shaking the bard.

"...I wasn't…"

"Damn straight you weren't, you fucking bastard!"

Jaskier was looking at him with wide eyes and a pale face. Geralt wasn't able to let go of him. If anything his grip on Jaskier's shoulder and neck was tightening. He needed to let the bard retreat, his breath was even starting to hitch. Geralt couldn't do it.

"Have you any idea-!" he drew Jaskier in a desperate embrace. "Any fucking idea what that-!"

Jaskier was trembling, trying to get away, and Geralt knew, he knew, he shouldn't be doing this. His arms kept trapping the bard against his chest. It wasn't calming, not with the way Jaskier exuded fear and panic. But it convinced him the bard was alive.

He tried to open his arms.

He couldn't let go.

"Geralt, Geralt. Please…" Jaskier's voice was thick with tears. "Please, let go. Please."

Jaskier felt like he was cracking, hairline fractures running through his body. He needed to get away. He was no match to the Witcher's strength.

"Let me go!" it was hard getting the words out with the way he didn't have air. "Please!"

Jaskier knew Geralt needed this. He had hurt him, deeply. He hadn't meant to. It didn't matter, he still had.

Geralt deserved the comfort.

He deserved everything. _Everything_.

Jaskier desperately wanted to give it.

But now he felt like he was drowning, like Geralt had been afraid of.

They were frozen in a horrible situation where neither could provide what the other needed.

They were just hurting each other.

And it was his fault.

He couldn't- he couldn't-

Geralt's arms slackened and Jaskier dashed to Roach, hiding behind her. Collapsing to the ground in a struggling, boneless heap, fighting for every single breath.

He wanted to go help Geralt.

Geralt needed him.

He should go to him, make sure Geralt was okay. Offer every broken piece of himself to grant solace to him.

Underneath the anger Geralt had been, was, frightened.

But everything was hurting.

Jaskier couldn't get up. He just cried harder, furious with himself.

Geralt was horrified at himself.

Placing his own needs above Jaskier's, ignoring his pleas, his panic, attempts to escape, not letting go, had to have been bordering on torture to the bard.

It was no surprise Jaskier fled.

Geralt didn't know how he ever could make things right again. Jaskier had to hate him, be beyond terrified of him. The bard had been placing his trust in him. And he had crushed it in the worst way he possibly could have.

Jaskier would never let him get close again.

He had destroyed it all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did someone order some horrible angst? No? I guess I broke my own heart for nothing then.
> 
> I'll just... Go hide until tomorrow, okay? So you can't find and fight me. I'd lose.


	21. Chapter 21

It took a long time before either of them moved.

Eventually Geralt got to his feet, not knowing what he should do. Jaskier had calmed down but he was afraid to approach, sure he wasn't welcome. He didn't want to set Jaskier off again by getting close. He had to be seen as a threat now instead of something safe.

But they couldn't keep sitting here in the middle of the path in wet clothes.

"Jaskier…" Geralt started hesitantly, craning his head to look at the bard from where he was standing. Roach was still mostly in the way.

Jaskier flinched but stayed silent.

"I'm sorry," for once, apologizing was easy. "I shouldn't have done it."

There was no answer. Geralt hadn't expected one.

"We need to move. Find a spot to stay for now," he took a couple slow steps towards Roach to gauge Jaskier's reaction. The bard tensed but didn't otherwise do anything. "Can you get up?"

Jaskier did, letting Roach block him almost completely from sight.

That was fine. If Jaskier needed a physical barrier between them, Geralt was more than ready to grant it. He was extremely grateful for the mare.

"Take care of her," Geralt tried to look as non-threatening as he could, passing the pair to lead the way again.

He could hear them start following after a while, leaving a sizable distance.

It was fine, Geralt kept telling himself, it was fine. Jaskier was at least following, not walking away from him. This time Geralt would have let him leave.

He would have regretted it for the rest of his life but he had already taken too much of Jaskier's autonomy away. He wasn't going to deny anything from him, be it a decision to get away from him or something else. Not again. It was fine if the bard would stay with him for purely practical reasons before parting ways. It was. Geralt had brought it upon himself. He just wasn't made for love. No Witcher was. In the short time he had been aware of his feelings he had made Jaskier spiral into a panic attack and now this. If that didn't demonstrate the reason Witchers didn't have relationships, Geralt didn't know what would.

It didn't stop his heart from crying out in protest.

Jaskier was more afraid than he had been in days.

He hated it.

It was just Geralt. Geralt who had been terrified out of his mind for him. Because of him. There was nothing to be scared of. Geralt would never hurt him.

Except he had.

Without meaning to, not physically, not on purpose. Just powerless against his own burning need to make sure he was safe, still here, still alive. Jaskier would never blame Geralt for acting on protective instinct, out of desperate concern. Never. If their places were swapped, he would have done the exact same thing.

It wasn't making the fear recede.

Jaskier couldn't get any closer to Geralt.

He had ruined it all. One thoughtless act and he had practically gutted Geralt and made himself petrified. He had obvious talent for hurting everyone, himself included. Jaskier didn't know how to make things right again. He couldn't even walk next to Geralt . Hadn't been able to look at him. Kept hiding behind Roach, trying to disappear into her mane.

He couldn't stop thinking how utterly trapped he had been before Geralt decided to let him go. There hadn't been even the slightest competition. Not a chance of freeing himself. Geralt could have done anything to him and he would have been helpless to stop it.

He knew Geralt would never use his strength like that.

The knowledge wasn't helping right now.

Jaskier had never been angrier with himself than he was at this moment. This was his fault. He had made a mistake. One which was hurting Geralt. He had been doing that a lot lately. It was almost surprising Geralt wasn't literally bleeding.

That fucking jump hadn't even worked. Jaskier still felt dirty.

He needed to apologize to Geralt. But each time he opened his mouth to do so, his voice died before even the first syllable could escape. He was afraid to draw attention. Make himself known, a possible mark.

It was ridiculous. This was Geralt.

There was nothing to worry about.

And Geralt had asked for his forgiveness right away. Geralt who had incredibly hard time doing so. Geralt who wasn't at fault. Geralt whose apology he hadn't been able to reciprocate or react to.

He needed to get a grip.

He didn't notice Geralt had stopped until Roach halted next to her owner, still separating the two. Smart girl. Jaskier was sure if she wasn't, he would have fled. Even now he was preparing to run at the first wrong move, his body continuing to have a mind of its own.

Jaskier had always known Geralt was dangerous. The Witcher had never been dangerous to him. Still wasn't. Never would. That information just kept getting lost somewhere between his conscious mind and nerves.

"I'll go get firewood. Make Roach comfortable while I'm gathering, okay? We're staying here," Geralt's voice was soft. As if he was talking to a spooked animal.

Jaskier felt like one.

He nodded. Geralt probably didn't see it, Roach's neck was in the way. But the Witcher still seemed to take his silence as an agreement.

As much as being close to Geralt was causing him discomfort, Jaskier was still grateful he didn't leave eyesight, keeping to the edges of the glade, never straying far. It made a sliver of safety return. If what had happened didn't drive Geralt away, nothing probably would. Jaskier was finally starting to believe it.

He didn't want to be alone.

Jaskier meant to rub Roach down but ended up rubbing his own tears away instead. The mare waited for her turn patiently, pressing her head gently against him. How Geralt had found a horse like Roach would remain a mystery.

Letting the saddlebags rest on the ground, Jaskier retrieved the first clothes his hands touched and retreated to change. His boots were sloshing and he'd also need to dry the stiletto attached to the inside of one. It all sounded tiring. But Geralt was right, they shouldn't stay in their drenched clothes.

By the time he returned, Geralt had built a small fire for cooking and was spreading his clothes out to dry in the sun. Jaskier copied him, setting everything on the other side of the glade. He should go to the actual campsite.

He couldn't. Not yet.

So Jaskier sat down, taking his boots off and emptied the water from them. There was more than he anticipated.

He kept watching Geralt move around. It felt like progress, being able to look at him. Such a tiny thing that it felt absurd. But it was a start.

Jaskier refused to stay scared of the man he loved.

"Jaskier. Food's ready," Geralt called out, holding a plate for himself, and retreated away from the fire.

Jaskier didn't know how to feel about the fact that Geralt was trying so hard to give him all the space he might need. But he had hurt him too much, too badly, already. So Jaskier fought his exhaustion and general apathy and got up to get some.

He knew Geralt would appreciate it.

Even if he couldn't bring himself to do much more than poke his food around the plate. At least he tried.

Geralt was surprised when Jaskier actually retrieved something to eat. Even if it looked like that was as far as he got. It was already more than the bard had lately done to take care of himself.

At least he tried.

If Jaskier's expressions were anything to go by then he seemed to regret everything that had happened as much as Geralt did. They were a fucking mess and Geralt didn't know how to start solving the situation. He wasn't sure if Jaskier wanted him to even attempt it. Probably not. More likely he wanted to run and never look back.

But letting Jaskier leave in the condition he was, would be incredibly dangerous for the bard.

Geralt was starting to seriously re-think his earlier decision to let Jaskier walk away, even if that turned out to be his wish. He was convinced that the bard would end up heading into his ruin if he stopped taking care of him. Making Jaskier despise him on top of already fearing him was worth it as long as it kept the bard safe.

It must have been looking ridiculous how they were sitting on the opposite sides of the glade but Geralt wasn't ready to try approach Jaskier.

It'd be better to let Jaskier come to him.

If he ever wanted to.

With nothing else to do, Geralt started the maintenance of his wet armor and weapons. It gave him something to do with his hands while keeping track of the bard. That was incredibly easy. He wasn't moving an inch.

"Don't bite your nails," Geralt reminded Jaskier, noticing that he was about to do exactly that. The bard halted his movement and switched to ripping grass around himself. It was a better alternative.

Playing his lute or singing would be the best.

Geralt wished to hear more about the song Jaskier was working on. It'd be normal.

"I wasn't trying to kill myself."

Geralt snapped his head up to stare at Jaskier, surprised by his faint voice. That was a relief to hear. His new niggling fear didn't disappear completely.

"What were you doing then?" Geralt asked. He needed to know.

Jaskier stayed silent, rubbing his arms.

Only thing Geralt felt was disheartened resignation.

Jaskier didn't know how to answer without making it sound ludicrous. How do you tell someone that you're feeling dirty, almost tainted, from something that happened over a week ago? You couldn't, that's how. It was incredible how he managed to keep finding new things to be irrational about.

"I'm sorry," that didn't need explanation. "I'm so sorry, Geralt."

He felt like crying again but there were no tears.

"It's okay. It's fine."

It wasn't. What he had accidentally done to the Witcher wasn't okay. At all.

"No. No, Geralt. It's not. You know it's not. I hurt you."

"Jaskier. I forgive you," there was only sincerity in Geralt's words. After a brief moment he added. "I'm sorry too."

Jaskier wished he too could say it was fine. But he didn't want to lie. He wouldn't be able to make it convincing, Geralt would see right through him and it'd just hurt him more.

"Stop biting your nails."

Oh, he hadn't noticed. It explained the coppery taste. Jaskier pressed against the cuticle to stop the blood from beading. It took only a couple seconds. He really needed to to stop doing that before it'd turn into a habit. He was glad Geralt still bothered to remind him.

Jaskier really wanted a hug.

He wasn't brave enough to go get it.

But he wanted one.

He just… didn't currently trust having Geralt's arms around him.

Didn't stop him from craving.

One day.

Jaskier might not be able to bear touching right now but maybe he could get closer at least. He didn't make it all the way to the fire. But he was closer. It'd have to be enough. He didn't have the strength to push himself more. Jaskier just sat there, taking deep breaths as if he had ran a marathon.

He felt like he had. Emotionally.

A few minutes later Geralt got up and carefully mirrored him. Looking into Jaskier's eyes, ready to back up at the slightest sign. He walked the same distance as the bard had.

Their fire was dying without no one to tend it. Not that it was needed at the moment, it wasn't dark yet. But it highlighted how silly the situation was. Both of them just sitting away from the campsite, watching last of the embers smolder when there was a pile of firewood next to it, ready to be used.

Jaskier wanted to poke the fire.

But it'd mean he needed to get up from where he was laying on the grass. He didn't want to do that. It was comfortable here.

"The fire's dying," Jaskier's voice was far too quiet for a human to hear but Geralt got up to save their campfire. It brought them nearer to each other and Jaskier could feel Geralt's eyes on him, asking.

This was fine.

Jaskier made a weird floppy gesture, trying to convey the sentiment to the Witcher. He was welcome to stay there. It wasn't too close. Geralt settled down in his new spot and Jaskier observed him.

Geralt looked tired. There was the slightest bow in his back, the tiniest slump in his shoulders. Jaskier was too far to see but he knew the Witcher had dark rings under his eyes, almost matching his. He didn't like being the reason for Geralt's exhaustion. There wasn't much he could do about it.

Except not jump into a fucking river again.

Jaskier needed to explain what he had meant to do. Make sure Geralt understood he wasn't trying to kill himself. He really didn't mean to do anything to hurt himself. Even if he had picked up some probably worrying tendencies during the week.

But talking about it meant he would need to open up about other things too.

Jaskier didn't know if he wanted to or felt ready. If he formed the words, he would have to face the facts. Start lifting the heavy rug to free some of the filth underneath it. It'd make things real, impossible to ignore or hide from. What if he put things into words and Geralt would confirm that he was indeed grossly over-reacting?

Jaskier knew he was.

So why was the mere idea of someone else agreeing so painful?

And he had already given the rundown of the events to Geralt. He was hesitant to go over it again, he didn't want to remember. He didn't want to try to place his feelings into words, having to articulate them.

It hurt.

Jaskier was tired of hurting.

"Jaskier, what's wrong?"

He was vaguely aware of having curled up, as if to protect himself against blows. He gave a noncommittal hum in response, worried he would start talking if he opened his mouth.

Jaskier wanted to have control over that decision.

There wasn't much else he could control.

He didn't want to have that conversation right now.

Not when he was exhausted to the bone.

"Can I come there?" Geralt sounded nervous.

Strange.

Jaskier shook his head. He'd go to Geralt when he was ready. He wasn't yet.

"That's fine. I won't," Geralt was still sounding hesitant. "Just… try to tell me if you need something. Anything."

Such a sweet sentiment.

There wasn't currently anything Geralt could do but he still nodded. He deserved at least an answer. Closing his eyes Jaskier listened to the sounds Geralt and Roach made, occasionally falling into a light doze. Sun was starting to go down by the time he moved again.

Jaskier wasn't feeling much better but he got up on unsteady legs and quietly creeped to sit across from Geralt, leaving the fire and more than few feets between them.

They needed to talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier?? Planning to talk???


	22. Chapter 22

Jaskier didn't know how to start.

Not without prompting. And Geralt wasn't even aware of what he was trying to do. No help coming from there. He would just… have to get over himself and do it.

He sat in silence for another half an hour.

"I-" Jaskier's voice cracked as he repeated his earlier statement. "I wasn't trying to kill myself."

He could feel Geralt's eyes focus on him but didn't dare to meet his gaze.

"I don't want to die. You don't have to worry about that. I just, I just wanted to bathe."

"Bathe. With clothes on. Not saying anything," Geralt sounded deathly calm, not suiting his choppy sentences.

"Kind of forgot to open my mouth. Thought I had told you. And that it was shallower," Jaskier's tone turned clipped in response. "I really, really needed to get clean. Still do."

"Why?"

There it came. Jaskier had known Geralt would ask that. Such a tiny word. Too small to hold the power to make him crumble. Breathing was getting hard again so he ducked his head between his knees and waited it out, Geralt letting him have all the time he needed.

"I- my hair- he- not just-" he wasn't making any sense. So Jaskier fell silent for a little longer before trying again. He didn't know where Geralt was finding the patience to deal with him. It couldn't be easy.

"Cutting my hair helped. But not, not enough. Didn't make it go away completely. I can… I still…" Jaskier wasn't sure he was making that much sense now either. "Sometimes, there's, these, echoes. Like with Songbird. But with- with touch. And… and I- I just want to be alone in my skin. It's… Maybe if I wash they too will wash away."

He could hear Geralt inhale sharply at his confession but stay otherwise silent.

"It's like he's- Marden's- here. Around. Just… waiting. I keep expecting him to come for me," Jaskier hadn't realized it was humanly possible to cry this much. There were tears streaking his cheeks again. "I feel him. I know, I know it's stupid. You killed him. I saw it. He's dead."

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. It's ridiculous. I'm just being an overdramatic idiot. Sorry. Ignore it, ignore me. Sorry."

"Jaskier…" Geralt's voice was strangled, too many emotions trying to present themselves at the same time. He could hear the Witcher move before abruptly stopping. Probably catching himself from encroaching into the bubble Jaskier had left for himself.

"No, no, it's okay," Jaskier didn't want Geralt to feel like he should be doing something. "It's okay. It's fine. I'll get myself back together soon enough. Just… just wanted to make sure you know I'm not suicidal."

There was nothing fine about it. Geralt didn't know how Jaskier managed to keep convincing himself things were okay, even now, even while starting to open up.

"Jaskier, stop," Geralt couldn't bear hearing the bard belittling his own pain anymore. "Just stop."

Jaskier gave a mirthless, defeated, chuckle. Geralt never wanted to hear the sound again.

"Sorry. Shouldn't have kept talking on and on."

Shit. Of course Jaskier had to take it the wrong way. Miscommunication was the only thing they had been excelling in lately.

"No, that's not it. I'm glad you told me," Geralt said firmly, wanting to cut the thought down before it had time to take root. They were going to get through this conversation, or so help him. "You have to stop telling yourself it's fine. We both know it's not."

"But…"

"No. If it had been anyone else than you, you wouldn't be saying that." Geralt could see Jaskier flinch as the words sunk in. He was listening then. Good.

"Doesn't matter how much that bastard paid you. He had no fucking right. You're a bard Jaskier. People pay for your performances. Nothing else," Geralt hoped he could finally get through to him. "They don't buy _you_."

It was surreal how he was lecturing Jaskier about how bardic profession worked.

"And he was blackmailing you to do as told. I was there for that part. It doesn't fucking count that you gave him your word. You didn't agree, you didn't consent, you didn't even have any fucking options."

"I still-"

"Don't! Don't you dare to make excuses for that piece of shit."

If Jaskier's face was anything to go by, the bard hadn't even considered that was what he kept doing.

"Think about it, okay?" Geralt wanted to close the conversation while neither of them had yet managed to hurt the other one, it'd do no good if it devolved into yet another spat. He didn't want Jaskier's efforts to go to waste.

Honestly, Geralt was feeling proud of him. It was hard to believe that Jaskier managed, let alone wanted, to open up to him after the way he had hurt the bard horribly only hours ago.

Geralt hoped Jaskier could see just how fucking resilient and brave he truly was.

Maybe it would help. Maybe Jaskier would finally stop hiding. Make him believe that he was strong enough to get through this. The way Geralt knew without a doubt he was. The Witcher was aware he was biased but he just couldn't understand why Jaskier so vehemently avoided facing this head on. Not doing it didn't change anything, except letting things get worse. Much better to get it done and over with. Even if this wasn't nearly as simple matter as that.

The principle still stood.

Jaskier was sure he was meant to be feeling better, lighter, after sharing a part of his spiraling thoughts. He didn't. All he was feeling was nauseous and panicked.

Definitely not the catharsis people raved about.

He could feel Marden all over himself, like saying it outloud had summoned his ghost to torment him. Every deceptively innocent touch laid on him was echoing, setting his nerves alight and making him want to shed his skin. It was sickening. He shouldn't have opened his mouth.

But he had had to let Geralt know he didn't plan on taking his own life. Not explaining anything would have undermined it, making it sound like empty platitudes and lies.

Geralt didn't deserve having to worry about it.

If this was the cost, it was worth it.

Now Jaskier didn't have any idea what to do with himself. They were too far from the river and Geralt would definitely not want him anywhere near it. He was scratching his forearms again. Good thing his nails were in terrible condition. Jaskier was afraid he'd leave marks otherwise. He didn't want to, so with herculean effort he stopped. He switched to carding his fingers through his far too short hair in attempt to chase foreign fingers away. It wasn't working either.

After a while he could feel the sensations recede. Everything else was getting further away too. He was having trouble connecting the movements he made to actually doing them. This time he welcomed it.

It was helping.

The next time he was completely aware again it was morning and he had half empty plate in front of himself. Geralt was still keeping his distance and watching him with the now far too familiar worried frown.

Jaskier waived at him.

Geralt nodded and looked slightly more relieved.

Good.

Jaskier was sure the way he ended up coping yesterday wasn't even remotely healthy. But it had worked, he could function again. Still, he should probably try to fight against the reaction in the future. Find something grounding.

Geralt's hand had been. Now he couldn't hold it.

He wanted to get close to the Witcher. His self-preservation instincts rebelled against the idea. Suddenly he was hurling the plate away from himself in frustration.

Fuck.

That definitely wouldn't make Geralt less concerned. His impulse control was shot to hell. He had kind of known that for a while now. What else could punching a tree, kicking a wall, or _jumping into a river_ , be called? Jaskier had always had a habit of doing things without much thought to consequences. This was taking it to a brand new level.

"Jaskier?" Geralt yelled, agitated at the uncharacteristic display.

"Uhhh. Sorry. Didn't mean to do that," Jaskier honestly regretted doing it. At least wood wouldn't break from being thrown. He went to retrieve the plate, skirting around the Witcher to make sure he didn't accidentally get too close.

He kind of wanted to throw the plate again.

He didn't.

Instead Jaskier deposited it next to the remains of their fire and went to check if his clothes were dry. They were.

Insides of his boots were still a little damp and the leather needed some maintenance. He couldn't bother to do anything for them. They weren't ruined, that was enough. Jaskier wasn't sure he would have cared if they were.

His stiletto wasn't in its hidden sheath anymore. Jaskier quickly twisted to look at Geralt. Apparently the Witcher wasn't quite satisfied with his reassurances of not planning to hurt himself. It was disheartening to know Geralt didn't trust him. Granted, his actions weren't particularly confidence boosting lately.

Jaskier had hard time remembering the last time he had used his small blade. Probably had cut an apple or something. It wasn't a big deal not to have it on him.

It was.

Suddenly he was even more vulnerable.

He should explain it to Geralt.

The Witcher would definitely understand the importance of having something sharp and pointy to defend himself with. Geralt was a walking menagerie of such things.

Jaskier was wary of breaching the subject. What if Geralt wanted to continue yesterday's conversation? He wouldn't be able to handle it this soon. He couldn't. Everything was too raw.

But he needed his stiletto back.

It was his only defense.

"Geralt?" Jaskier was grateful for the enhanced hearing Witchers had. He couldn't make his voice carry. "Can I have my knife back?"

"Why?"

Did Geralt really have to question everything? It'd be nice if he'd just agree without a fuss.

"To stab a squirrel," Jaskier was suddenly extremely annoyed having to explain himself. "What do you think?"

The Witcher just continued to stare.

"Defense, Geralt, defense. I swear I'll find a way to steal one of yours if you refuse."

Geralt's lips were starting to twitch. Jaskier didn't see what was so amusing. He needed his blade back.

"Fine."

Finally.

"If I see you use it I'll confiscate it again."

Screw you Geralt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier used words!!!


	23. Chapter 23

It was great seeing Jaskier briefly act close to normal after how badly he had been affected by last evening's conversation. Geralt knew it wouldn't last long but he would take every second of it.

His wayward heart hadn't yet accepted that it was a doomed endeavor to be a Witcher in love.

Geralt took Jaskier's stiletto from his belt and placed it on the ground and retreated so the bard could come to pick it up. It hurt how Jaskier hadn't been able to come within ten feet of him. He really had screwed up, making Jaskier so scared of him. Geralt already missed the closeness and the rare touches they had been able to share. He didn't know if there was a way to repair Jaskier's trust in him. He would simply have to act like always and hope it'd give enough normality to the bard to start relax in his company again. Although, Jaskier had shared very personal details yesterday. Geralt didn't believe for a moment the bard would do that with just anyone. Maybe they could be okay eventually.

What Jaskier had told him was almost haunting.

Geralt had been more than aware that Jaskier was struggling but hearing that… It was even worse than he had thought. And somehow Jaskier was managing to deny the the truth of Marden's actions even when suffering from such aftereffects. It was incredible. In the worst possible way. Geralt was afraid for Jaskier when he finally would admit having been assaulted. It didn't matter that bastard hadn't apparently forced himself on the bard. It still counted as such a heinous act.

Geralt knew if it had happened to anyone else, Jaskier would be agreeing with him on what had transpired.

He felt like he should try pressing the issue. But if their fight on the first night was anything to go by Jaskier wasn't ready. It'd probably be better to continue at the bard's pace. Even if it was far too slow from Geralt's perspective. He just wanted Jaskier to open his eyes so he could work things through.

At least there was one concrete thing he could offer to help.

"Jaskier, do you feel up to traveling for a bit?" Geralt called out. "That river has to have a better spot for bathing. We could go find one."

"Yeah," the bard perked up. "Let's go."

Geralt was happy having guessed right. Jaskier was moving with more energy than in the last few days. He might not be glad about the motivator but it was better than the complete apathy.

Jaskier honestly hadn't thought Geralt wanted him anywhere near water after what he had done. It was touching how the Witcher had to be squishing his own worry to give this to him.

Geralt probably wouldn't let him do it alone out of fear. The Witcher didn't even want to let him have a blade on him. It was an anxiety inducing thought, bathing in front of someone. Jaskier doubted he'd be able to undress. But he had once already decided to do it fully clothed so it didn't really matter.

This time he would take his boots off.

They were closer to the river than Jaskier had realized. It had felt like they had been walking for hours yesterday but reaching the path took barely half an hour. The river was still just as tempting as before.

Jaskier wanted to jump in again.

He didn't. His self-control might be nonexistent but he wasn't that far gone yet.

He could feel Geralt's eyes on him, as if waiting him to do exactly that.

Jaskier just kept walking, leaving Roach between himself and the water.

Little extra help didn't hurt.

It didn't take the Witcher too long to find a suitable spot. It even had a small sliver of a beach instead of only a riverbank to jump off. Much more practical. Jaskier tied Roach to the first reasonable thing he saw, quickly grabbed one of the scented soaps from his saddlebag, threw his boots off, and waded into the water.

It was colder than he remembered.

Didn't matter. The moment the water was deep enough he dived.

It was peaceful under the water.

Everything muted. Everything looking slightly warped.

It fit him.

He refused to resurface before his lungs were burning painfully and few air bubbles forced their way out.

Gasping for air Jaskier noticed Geralt was standing knee deep in the water, shirtless and clearly fighting himself not to stride up to him and drag him to a shallower part. The Witcher was most likely forgetting he had a good lung capacity. That's what being a professional singer did.

Perfect for staying underwater for longer than average.

At least Geralt was begrudgingly trusting him to surface by himself. Maybe he should limit the time he spent diving for the sake of Geralt's frayed nerves.

It was an awkward affair to try to wash himself fully clothed. The fact that his clothes were looser than they had previously been did help slightly.

Jaskier wished he could act like a normal person instead of a nervous wreck.

His toes and fingers were getting numb from the cold. He should get out of the water and warm up.

He didn't move.

The gently flowing water was helping.

"Jaskier, get out of there."

Geralt seemed to have the same idea of what he should do.

He didn't move. It was nice here.

"You're going to freeze."

Jaskier dived again, letting the river surround him.

"Seriously?"

Yes.

"Get the fuck out of the water Jaskier. Now."

He just wanted to float here where it was peaceful.

"If you don't get your ass here right this fucking second, I'll come and force you out of there!"

This time Jaskier remembered Geralt didn't bluff with his threats and started to wade out as slowly as humanly possible.

The Witcher didn't look amused.

Didn't matter. Jaskier was feeling a bit better.

"What the fuck is the matter with this river and you?" Geralt really wasn't amused. "Are you trying to be a bastard on purpose?"

"No," Jaskier was starting to shiver now that he was just standing around in his soaked clothes. "It simply felt nice."

There was a slight softening in the Witcher's expression.

"Change your clothes," Geralt said over his shoulder, grabbing his own shirt and leaving to give Jaskier privacy to do so.

Jaskier really didn't know what he had done to deserve Geralt's kindness. It was rough, sincere, and so, so, precious.

Once done, he untied Roach and headed to where Geralt was waiting for him. The Witcher didn't bother using his words but Jaskier figured out the nod meant he wanted something from the saddlebags. Backing up from the mare Jaskier couldn't help but ruefully consider how absurd their new dance was. It was downright ludicrous.

"Wrap this around your shoulders," Geralt commanded hanging one of their blankets on Roach's saddle. "Should warm you up a bit until we get a fire going."

Geralt really was the sweetest, no matter how vehemently he would deny it.

They didn't head deep into the forest this time, the path was barely out of sight when Geralt told him to tie Roach up and started gathering wood. In minutes there was a campfire burning and Jaskier was starting to feel his toes again. It was pleasant. If he ignored how everything felt like pins and needles as his blood was flowing again as it should.

It felt like the river had scrubbed some of the filth from both his skin and soul. It was slightly easier to breath, slightly easier to think, slightly easier to just exist.

Jaskier wondered if he should try working on the ballad. It'd pass the time while he was warming up. He didn't have his songbook in his pocket.

He had had it yesterday.

When he took his ill-thought dive.

Paper.

Water.

Fuck.

Jaskier darted to rummage the yesterday's doublet's pockets for his notebook, not acknowledging Geralt's questions. Why the hell hadn't he thought about this earlier?

Finding the book Jaskier retreated back to the fire's warmth to examine the damage.

Its covers were warped, sporting deep valleys and high hills. The pages were pulpy, wavy, and stuck together, ink running and making everything he had written too smudged to read. He could only glare at it in dismay.

And chuck it into the fire.

He regretted it immediately.

Jaskier would have burned his hand in his attempt to recover it if Geralt hadn't snatched his wrist at the last second.

Everything froze as they stared into each other's eyes before lowering their eyes in tandem to look at their joined hands.

Geralt dropped Jaskier's as if he had been burned, quickly stepping backwards to get out of the bard's comfort zone. Jaskier sat still as a stone, just looking at the Witcher with wide eyes and slightly parted lips as if he meant to say something.

No words came.

The flames crackled cheerfully, devouring the songbook and its ruined contents.

"Weeks of work," Jaskier whispered in a shaking voice after what felt like years. "I destroyed weeks of work."

His throat was getting tight with tears trying to get out. The light feeling was disappearing, horror taking its place. "I bought those new notebooks because that one was almost filled."

"It was almost filled, Geralt," he couldn't fight the bitter tears anymore. "It held so much. So much work. So many ideas."

"And I fucking ruined it all."

"You had them once. Can't you copy them down?" Geralt asked sounding slightly lost.

"I wish. I wish it was that simple. I really do," Jaskier tried to swallow his tears, tired of crying over everything. But he poured so much of himself into his work.

It was like he had managed to rip a piece of his soul out with the ruined songbook.

"If you don't remember what you wrote, then those parts weren't worth shit in the first place."

Ah. Such a Geralt way of trying to console him.

"You'll remember the important things," Geralt was speaking with determination. "You always go on about how it's all about editing and perfecting the ideas, Jaskier. This is just an extreme case."

"Thank you. That's very sweet of you, Geralt," Jaskier didn't mean to use that phrasing.

"You've been such a dear lately," he definitely hadn't meant to say that.

"Uhhh."

Jaskier agreed with Geralt.

They ended up ignoring it.

At least the awkwardness was enough to quell Jaskier's crying. That was the one blessing of his words joining his actions not having a reliable filter.

He really wanted to have one.

Jaskier started to absently rub the wrist Geralt had grabbed in his haste to stop him from accidentally hurting himself. He was glad Geralt had breached his boundaries to save him from his own dumbass tendencies.

But now his wrist was feeling strange. Not pleasant. Not unpleasant. Just weird. There was the familiar echo of the touch but it was far different from Marden's. It felt warm. Not burning. Not painful. But also not safe as it had once been.

Jaskier hated that.

He wanted to feel safe with Geralt in every way.

The Witcher was a reassuring presence. As long as he didn't get too near.

At least he wasn't terrified anymore.

In time Jaskier hoped the feeling of safety would return.

For now he would settle for being able to get close again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A mostly peaceful chapter...!
> 
> Heads up! I'm taking a break from updates for a couple days. Next one's gonna be up on Wednesday! 
> 
> Idk how but I've managed to write enough words to fill ~3/4 of Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone in a month and 2 days when you count all the fics together, plus editing. Oh my, do I fiddle with these chapters... All this after not writing prose for 8 years. :"D
> 
> I'm having super good time and the next chapter is started, don't worry. :3


	24. Chapter 24

Jaskier had finally completely warmed up but they were still waiting for the blanket he had used to dry. It wouldn't be good having it damp when they settled for the night. One of the most important rules of camping: avoid getting your bedding wet. 

There wasn't much to do in the meantime so Jaskier simply watched Geralt talk to Roach. He was too quiet for Jaskier's ears. Shame. He would have liked to know what the Witcher was saying. Probably complaining about him. There weren't many other options for Geralt to converse about. Jaskier was causing all the gossip around here to share with the mare. It was thanks to observing the Witcher that Jaskier caught him suddenly tensing up. Dread started to fill him. 

Words, Geralt had promised to use his words if something was wrong.

"People are heading here." 

Shit. Now the dread turned into fear. 

Jaskier jumped to his feet, grateful Geralt had returned his stiletto. Hopefully whoever was coming would be peaceful. Like those hunters had been. Just a false alarm. Nothing to worry about. He had hard time believing it.

Geralt placed himself in front of him, leaving less space between them than he had since yesterday morning. Jaskier welcomed it. It was a relief that the Witcher still wanted to shield him. Jaskier wasn't sure why he had thought otherwise. 

It didn't take long for five men to step out of the forest. 

Jaskier didn't like the look of them. 

They were wearing scuffed leather armors in various states of disrepair and caked in mud. Weapons visible and easy to reach, hungry gleam in their eyes. Bandits, probably. They were the perfect distance from the nearest town for the …profession… to thrive. 

"Well, well. A little bardling and his hired help," most-likely-the-leader drawled. "Why is a rich man like you skulking around the woods?" 

Jaskier wanted to point out that regardless of his expensive clothing and lute, he was currently almost penniless. He had spent most of his money on supplies. And not a coin of Marden's had weighed down his pockets since buying that bloody outfit for the feast. 

"Leave," Geralt growled, hand drifting towards his swords in warning. 

"Gladly. As soon as we get what we want. Hand over your money and valuables, horse too, and we'll be on our merry way." 

Rest of the men started to fan out, circling them.

Jaskier felt like running or curling up. He stood almost frozen in place, heart racing in fear. Only as few of the men started to get behind him did Jaskier turn, preferring Geralt to guard his back. He didn't know what he should, could, do. 

"A silent bard? That's a first," the leader taunted him. "Won't you sing for us?" 

Jaskier wanted to disappear. 

"Fuck off. Now," Geralt warned, tone promising death. "Step closer and I'll draw my sword." 

"Hmmm. No." 

Snarling, Geralt unsheathed his sword as the bandits surged forward weapons ready.

Jaskier too drew his stiletto from his boot. It felt pitifully small compared to the weapons everyone else was brandishing. It didn't grant him the sense of protection he had hoped for when he demanded it back from the Witcher. He hadn't actually thought he'd need it for more than moral support. 

Jaskier didn't know what the hell he had done to deserve the shit show his life had turned into. Being a pain in the ass and sleeping with a few married people didn't warrant this. 

It was hard to focus on what was going on around him when his mind wanted to shut down from the stress and terror. It felt like everything was happening in flashes and snapshots. 

Sword swung at him so he ducked. 

Geralt yelled something. 

Another swing. 

Stumbling on roots but not falling. 

Flash of pain. 

Slashing out with his stiletto.

Cutting something. 

Geralt's back against his. 

Hand grasping his chemise. 

Blood spraying on his face.

Silence. 

"Jaskier? Look at me." 

"Jaskier!" 

Geralt.

He should do as Geralt wanted. 

Blinking, Jaskier focused on Geralt's eyes. They were very golden and close. 

Too close. 

He scrambled backwards, stepping on something soft. He didn't look down to see what. 

"Jaskier, calm down. You're safe. It's over," Geralt didn't move. Except to hide hands behind his back.

It helped. Geralt wouldn't be able to touch him like that. 

Jaskier hadn't yet gotten his ability to communicate back. Breathing took too much effort for it and his vision was wavering. It was frustrating. He wanted to answer Geralt. And ask what happened. 

Jaskier looked about to faint. Geralt couldn't blame him. That had been among the last things the bard needed. 

Fucking bandits.

It was as if every single time things were starting to look up something would happen. It was gnawing holes at the patience Geralt tried so hard to hold on to. It was alarmingly close to tearing. He knew losing it wouldn't do any good. Didn't stop him from nearing the point. He was clenching his fist hard enough for his knuckles turn snow white behind his back. 

"Jaskier, go to Roach and sit down," Geralt hoped the bard would react to simple orders. "You're hurt. Either you or me have to check the cut." 

Jaskier turned mutely around and walked almost mechanically to the mare, sitting down at her feet. Hissing in anger and worry Geralt followed him. Seeing blood on Jaskier's chemise made him want to physically check the bard over for damage. He fucking couldn't. Not without making everything worse.

"Jaskier?" 

No reaction. Damn it. 

"Jaskier. Snap out of it," Geralt wasn't sure it was a good thing the bard didn't mind sitting next to him while he took their medical supplies out. He clapped his hands loudly like before. "I need you to focus." 

Jaskier turned his head to look at him. 

"Can I lift your shirt? I need to see that wound," in any other situation Geralt would already be doing it. 

A shake of head. The Witcher wasn't sure why he had considered there could be a different answer. 

"Fine," he ground out. "You do it."

"Here," Geralt plopped the supplies into Jaskier's lap. There was no reaction. 

"Fuck! Can't you even try?" getting angry at the bard wouldn't help. Didn't stop him from feeling so. "You're bleeding! Do something about it. Now!" 

Geralt wanted to be the one doing something about it. He fucking hated this. Taking few deep breaths in attempt to gather himself before he'd shout more, Geralt tried again. 

"Jaskier. You're safe but hurt. You need to take care of that," his voice was strained with the effort of sounding as calm as he could. It wasn't very calm. If Jaskier didn't start responding, he would need to touch him without permission and make sure it wasn't anything life threatening. Consequences be damned. "If you don't, I have to." 

There was finally some life returning to Jaskier's eyes as he pressed a hand against his ribs where the bloodstain bloomed. 

"Oh." 

"You with me?"

"Mmmm." 

Geralt would take that. 

"Good. Patch yourself up." 

Jaskier lifted his hand to look at the red covering it. 

"Oh." 

"Now, Jaskier." 

Another absent-minded hum but the bard started to inspect his wound. The sound of tearing fabric startled Geralt as Jaskier simply ripped his shirt open, using the new slit it already had acquired. 

That was a first. Geralt had never seen Jaskier destroy his clothes on purpose. It made him uneasy. 

Geralt kept a sharp eye on the cut as Jaskier worked silently, ready to help the second it looked serious enough to warrant it. It appeared to be a very shallow and clean cut, curving along Jaskier's ribs towards the sternum but only a few inches long. 

Not as bad as Geralt had feared. 

He still wanted to grab the supplies and take care of it himself. Especially as he watched Jaskier struggle to wind the bandage around his torso to keep the cut covered.

Geralt was sick and tired of seeing the bard hurt. 

"Stay," he commanded and hurried to gather Jaskier's clothes and the blanket that were still spread out to dry. Geralt wanted to get the fuck out of this corpse covered nook. 

Jaskier hadn't moved an inch when he returned, just idly worried the ripped fabric of his shirt, not paying much attention to anything around himself. But the blood splatter on his face was gone. Stuffing everything haphazardly into the bags the Witcher told him to get on Roach so they could leave. Jaskier complied immediately, giving the same noncommittal hum in response that seemed to be the only thing he could say at the moment. 

Geralt despised the sound. Jaskier wasn't supposed to use the taciturn way of communication he himself preferred. The reasons for it were all wrong. 

Not wanting to have to find a new spot to stay, Geralt lead them back to the glade they had left earlier in the day. 

Roach had such a smooth gait. Jaskier wasn't sure he had previously appreciated it enough. She was steady and warm and kept him safe. She might be the only being at the moment he considered as completely, unquestionably, safe. She had absolutely no ulterior motives, nothing she wanted from him. Apples and other treats didn't count. 

Such a good horse. Such a good girl. Jaskier wasn't exactly sure when he had mounted her but that just proved the point. Roach would make sure he was fine while riding even if he was just a deadweight to her.

He patted her neck in thanks and tried to figure out where they were going. They had left the nook and they weren't on the main path. Jaskier felt like he should recognize the surroundings. 

"Where…?" apparently his voice was still lagging behind. 

"Back to the glade," Geralt answered. The Witcher was walking in front of them holding Roach's reins long, not having left them rest against her neck for Jaskier to grab. 

"Ah," that's why it looked vaguely familiar. "The bandits?"

"Dead." 

Jaskier refused to admit even to himself that deep down there was a small, dark and twisted, part of him that was glad they had been attacked. It hadn't been just baseless anxiety and worry over nothing in the end. He hated that tiny whisper. He didn't actually want death and hurt just so he wouldn't be acting irrational. He really, really didn't. It was appalling. Jaskier wondered if something new had broken in his head. 

"You?" 

"What about me?" Geralt sounded genuinely confused. 

"Are you hurt?" Jaskier needed to know. It was the most important thing. 

"No."

"Good." 

The glade was exactly as they had left it. Wherever those robbers had come from, it wasn't through there. They tried to follow their new routines of setting up a camp as closely as possible, both wanting to shove the encounter away. After changing his ripped shirt and wrapping a dry blanket around his shoulders Jaskier padded to the spot he had slept last night. Tried to sleep. 

He was tired. 

Tired of not being able to sleep. Tired of being constantly anxious and scared. Tired of not being able to get close to Geralt. Tired of hurting. Tired of being tired.

Just tired. 

And feeling ill. 

Not sick. He knew it was just caused by his overwrought nerves. He was tired of that too. Jaskier curled up and let himself gently fall on the grass. 

"Geralt? Can you come here?" Jaskier whispered, knowing the Witcher would hear. "Not here-here. Just… around." 

Wanting Geralt close by made him feel terribly needy. But the Witcher had once again defended him, kept doing so. It was starting to make him feel better, a little safer. Convincing him that Geralt was no threat to him. Jaskier knew he wasn't. He knew it. It was frustratingly hard to make his self-preservation instincts believe it too.

But he was making progress.

"Drink," Geralt said tossing a waterskin to the bard. 

"Came bearing gifts, I see," Jaskier didn't want to move to reach for it. Geralt's glare was enough to make him take it in his hands. 

Noticing that was all he did, Geralt gave him a disapproving look. "You lost blood. Drink." 

He had done that, hadn't he? Jaskier considered if he was still in some stage of shock since the wound didn't hurt much. 

He had probably been in some stage of shock since the feast. 

It was a strange revelation. 

"How long can shock last?" Jaskier mumbled, not sure if he should be talking. 

"I don't know. Why?"

"...No reason." 

"Don't. Don't fucking do that," Geralt looked ready to set something aflame when Jaskier glanced at him. 

"I… I think I might have it. Still. From… you know." It was hard to continue. "Maybe. I don't know if shock can even last this long. Probably not. It's… but it'd make sense. If it did, that is." 

Geralt regarded him silently, looking thoughtful. 

"I have no fucking idea what's wrong with me," Jaskier said bitterly. "Everything, I guess. Just a broken bloody mess of a bard."

"That's not true. Jaskier, listen…" Geralt was suddenly looking so damn worried and unsure of his wording. "You're not broken. Things are just hard for you right now. It'll take some time to get back to normal. But you'll get through this, I know you will."

Jaskier didn't know it, not like Geralt apparently did. He really, really didn't know how to get over this. But somehow the Witcher had managed to find the words he was yearning to hear.

Jaskier got up and walked silently to Geralt, thankful the Witcher stayed completely still. He was sure if Geralt moved at all he would lose his nerve and run. Shaking, Jaskier settled down behind Geralt, leaning against his back. It would be harder to grab him this way. 

But most of all, it was comforting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I missed you guys!
> 
> What's this?? As close to a hug as Jaskier can handle atm???


	25. Chapter 25

Geralt was sure he had never been more aware of his own physical being than he was this moment. Every breath felt too deep, causing him to move so jarringly he feared Jaskier would startle and run.

The warm pressure against his back felt astonishing.

The anger that had been festering in him was melting away as the minutes passed and Jaskier didn't make a move to leave. Only change in the bard was that Geralt could now smell the salt and feel the shuddery breaths of crying, hear the tiny hiccups he tried to stifle.

But Jaskier wasn't going anywhere.

Geralt had hard time wrapping his head around it.

How the fuck could anyone trust him like this, let alone Jaskier? He didn't want to screw up again. There probably wouldn't be any second chances.

He had already used his.

If there was one thing Geralt could offer someone, it was silence and stillness. So that's what he did, taking comfort from the contact and hoped it soothed also Jaskier. The bard needed it. Badly.

Geralt would sit here for the whole day if that was what would give Jaskier solace.

"Geralt?"

"Hmmm?"

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

I'm here for you. You won't be alone. I'll always help you. I'll keep you safe. I love you, even if I'll never tell you.

There were many things Geralt would like to say. He had to settle for those two words.

Shadows were starting to get long when Jaskier finally got to his feet, feeling wobbly as a newborn foal. He probably should have drank that water when Geralt had told him to. Clutching his blanket he made his way to the waterskin and flopped down.

His heart was feeling lighter.

He felt physically worse.

Drinking helped, making his headache recede slightly.

Jaskier wished he could be more useful, Geralt was once again taking care of everything around the camp. He might not normally be the most pro-active chore-doer but letting this go on was making Jaskier feel guilty. He hadn't done much of anything in days. Even now he couldn't make himself get up and help, feeling too drained.

So he just laid there as Geralt prepared them dinner.

"Food's ready."

Jaskier hadn't realized he had dozed off. He didn't have energy to sit up so he waved a hand dismissively, not opening his eyes. He'd eat after sleeping some more.

There were footsteps coming towards him.

"Are we really going to do this again?" Geralt didn't sound pleased in the least.

"I'm tired. I'll eat later," Jaskier grumbled. "Promise."

"Hell no. Sit up. Eat."

Something was placed on the ground a couple of feet away from him. Food, most likely, considering their topic.

"Gera-"

"No."

"Ge-"

"No."

"Fine," it was easier to agree. He could make another attempt to sleep quicker this way. "Bring that here. I'm not moving."

There was a pause so Jaskier squinted his eyes open to glare at the Witcher in challenge. "Bring it."

Geralt picked up the plate and took slow steps to cross the distance, kneeling down to offer the plate gingerly. Jaskier reached out and took it in trembling hands. He would have liked to say it was just from the lack of nourishment.

It wasn't.

But he prevailed.

Such a ridiculous thing to be proud of, taking a plate from Geralt's hands.

"Mind if I sit here?" Geralt asked moving slightly away from him.

"Free grass, be my guest," Jaskier said aiming for nonchalance. He tried not to be obvious about how he tracked every movement Geralt made. He knew it didn't escape the Witcher.

Sitting up would make eating easier. Jaskier continued laying on his side. He hadn't been lying to Geralt, he really was beyond exhausted. What little he could swallow he could as well do from this position. Who cared? All he wanted was to sleep.

Jaskier woke up with a gasp.

It wasn't even dark yet when he sat up, feeling like he was still being strangled. There were no hands around his throat.

He could hear Geralt but the actual words were escaping him. It was a relief to know the Witcher hadn't left him alone.

That meant he was safe from others.

His lungs were starting to remember how to work.

Jaskier knew his response to Geralt wasn't very comprehensible. It was all he could do. It'd just have to be enough.

Getting up he headed towards Roach, not knowing what else to do. The mare was grazing, tail swishing around lazily to keep mosquitoes away.

Jaskier would like to be as carefree as her.

"Hey girl. Did you find tasty grass?" Jaskier leaned gently against Roach's side, peering down to look at her munching away. "Maybe I should try some. Human food isn't really agreeing with me lately."

His hands weren't shaking as badly anymore.

"I promise to stay away from your sugar cubes. I did buy them just for you."

Roach snorted as if in agreement.

"You'd be amazed at how expensive those little things are," Jaskier continued. Roach didn't mind that his voice was thick with unshed tears. "Only very special ladies are worth such gifts."

There were tangles in her mane. Jaskier set to correct it, giving his fingers something to do.

It helped to calm him down more.

Squatting down, he whispered in her ear as quietly as possible, not wanting Geralt to overhear him. "One very special gentleman too. One you know very well."

Roach pushed hard enough with her head to make him topple over.

Maybe she wanted to be the only one getting gifts.

Jaskier didn't have the will to get up so he just laid there, listening to Roach eat. She was such a peaceful presence amidst everything that had been happening.

The first stars were starting to come out, peeking occasionally behind the clouds. Geralt was tending to their fire if the crackling was anything to go by. The Witcher was probably staring at him instead of looking at what he was doing. Jaskier wondered if he should go back to their actual campsite and try to sleep again.

He wasn't feeling any better rested.

But contemplating merits of sleep was making unwanted images flash behind his eyelids with every blink. The brief moment of serenity he had achieved crumbled to dust, leaving only bitterness.

Maybe realizing that he had been walking around in shock, or something similar at least, for all these days was starting to turn everything more concrete instead of a massive intangible cloud of horribleness.

Jaskier didn't like this development.

His fears were starting to take forms.

Keeping them under the rug wasn't working.

He wanted to go back to the feeling of vague and pervasive dread.

It was better than this.

Dazed, Jaskier walked towards Geralt.

He wasn't sure why, but it seemed like the best option. The only option really. If he looked at anything else than the Witcher, the reality seemed to warp around him, mixing memories into the present.

Geralt was a constant. Here. Now.

Jaskier was drowning.

He needed an anchor.

"Jaskier?"

Geralt.

He needed Geralt.

"What's wrong?"

Fingers that weren't his curled into Geralt's shirt.

This was real.

"Answer me."

Geralt was real.

"Jaskier!"

Marden wasn't.

"Fucking fuck!"

The chair leg hitting his back wasn't.

The water being poured over his head wasn't.

The doublet being eased off his shoulders wasn't.

His knees hitting the bed wasn't.

It wasn't

It wasn't.

It wasn't.

_Was it?_

Geralt had absolutely no fucking idea what the hell was going on with Jaskier. Except that it was really fucking bad. He hadn't noticed anything out of the ordinary with the bard as he had made his way to Roach, seeking comfort after a nightmare. But when Jaskier had gotten up and headed towards him, something had changed.

It felt eerie.

Jaskier's eyes were glazed and he moved as if sleepwalking, flinching from things Geralt couldn't perceive. He reeked of terror. His insistence on practically burrowing into Geralt's chest was wrong.

Geralt let him do it.

If it'd help so be it, even if it was rising the Witcher's hackles with the way it seemed compulsive.

He didn't lift his arms to touch Jaskier.

The bard was trembling, almost non-existent breaths turning labored, grip tightening even more. There was a small pained moan escaping Jaskier. Geralt could feel his heart crack at the sound. He fervently wished he knew what was happening, how to help, how to make it all go away.

He didn't.

He felt his shirt getting damp with tears.

"Jaskier?" Geralt tried again. "Come on, look at me. You're safe. It's just us here."

He had a feeling making a sudden loud noise would be a very bad idea.

"It's just us. And Roach. You like Roach."

"Jaskier, please…" Geralt didn't remember the last time he had used that word sincerely. "Come back to me."

"Please come back."

There was no reaction.

Not having any other ideas, Geralt gently laid his hands against Jaskier's back. It was the wrong thing to do. All he accomplished was to make the bard flinch violently.

Geralt didn't try again.

He just stood there, keeping his own breathing slow and steady. The Witcher was sure his heart was beating almost in the rhythm of a human heart with the way it was racing. Maybe it'd guide Jaskier's to calm down.

It had gotten completely dark before there was a change. Jaskier let go of his shirt and collapsed to the ground as his legs gave out. Geralt fell on his knees, trying to see if the bard could recognize him.

Red rimmed eyes were finally blinking at him, not through him. Geralt let out a deep relieved sigh.

"Hey. You back?"

Jaskier opened his mouth a few times but couldn't form the words yet. Instead he buried his head behind his knees.

"Jaskier. Answer the question," Geralt coaxed. "Use your words."

"Mmmm."

At least it was a deliberate sound. Geralt wasn't sure when hearing even the slightest hum had turned into something to be glad of.

"You can do better than that."

"Uh-huh."

"Not what I meant," Geralt huffed in fake annoyance.

"...Yeah…"

Finally something was working.

"A word. Great."

"...shut it…"

"I really don't know how you've ever managed to make popular songs."

"...I know what you're doing. But fuck you."

There was a smile creeping on Geralt's lips. Jaskier starting to talk was lifting a weight off from his shoulders.

"What the fuck happened?" he needed to know.

Jaskier just shook his head silently.

"Okay," later then. He could wait. He could. "Okay. Do you need something?"

"I'll get you water," not waiting for an answer, Geralt got on to his feet. It seemed the only thing he did nowadays.

"...Stay…"

Taken off guard, he plopped back down.

"Stay. Please."

Jaskier felt like death. He was aching inside out, feeling nauseated and like his nerves were on fire. He was half convinced that he would simply slump into an unconscious heap with the way everything kept spinning and black creeped at his peripheral vision. The stone pressing down on his chest hadn't gone away.

It was bad enough his mind was in a constant chaos. Did his body really have to join into it?

Geralt was staying with him.

It felt like a miracle. Jaskier was so ashamed of what he did. He hadn't meant to drag the Witcher into his breakdown, flashback, whatever it had been. He hadn't meant to have it at all. Everything had just suddenly flooded back. Everything he had tried to shove away, not acknowledge, refused to look at. He didn't even know what triggered it.

Maybe he wasn't meant to have a single content moment anymore. It was a depressing thought.

Geralt kept saying he would be fine. It was hard to believe.

Geralt also said he needed to face what happened.

He hadn't been able to avoid it. Maybe same would happen in the positive sense. That one he wouldn't even try to run from.

Jaskier didn't know. He just didn't.

He kind of wanted to talk to Geralt. Not now. Maybe tomorrow. Or the day after. At some point in the future at least. Not now.

All he still craved was sleep. He was scared to try. Jaskier was sure he wouldn't be able to handle yet another nightmare. His eyelids kept dragging shut. He fought it.

"Go to sleep."

"No," Why did Geralt have to agree? It'd be easier if the Witcher acted contrary.

"Stop acting like a toddler and go the fuck to sleep."

Jaskier was sure that aside from Geralt, his mother had been the last one to demand that. He was being a brat, wasn't he? Definitely didn't help with the shame. He did let his eyes drift closed. Like each night, he kept startling awake every few hours, not remembering his dreams this time. He was eternally grateful for it.

Geralt was close by each time he looked.

Jaskier really loved him.

It made some things even harder.

Loving Geralt was worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof. Jaskier's frequent tactile flashbacks sure decided to turn into a big completely dissociative one encompassing all senses. ;w;
> 
> But hey, Roach continues being the best therapy horse. And Geralt got his mirror scene to Jaskier's from cha.15: 
> 
> "Thank you."
> 
> For existing. For being here for me. For not leaving. For just being you. For letting me love you, even if you don't know it.
> 
> There were many reasons that Jaskier couldn't share with Geralt. He had to settle for those two words.


	26. Chapter 26

Jaskier got his previous wish for rain in the morning. He didn't want it anymore. It was cold, wet and made his clothes stick to his skin unpleasantly. They quickly retreated to the treeline, Geralt setting up a tarp lean-to.

It was an intimidating shelter.

They had proved many times they both could fit underneath. If they sat side to side, pressing close. Jaskier stared at it until Geralt shooed him to take cover while the Witcher kept standing in the rain. Clutching his lute case Jaskier felt immensely guilty watching him get drenched.

This was stupid.

"Geralt, get in," Jaskier tried to keep his voice from wavering.

Geralt only crossed his arms.

"I'm serious. Come sit."

The Witcher kept observing him.

"I'll be fine."

Geralt finally came to take cover, carefully choreographing his movements, making them easy to predict. Jaskier couldn't help but tense up when the Witcher's side pressed against his.

Geralt looked seconds away from going out in the rain again.

"Stay," Jaskier commanded, fighting his instinct to flinch away. He knew Geralt could feel it. "Stay."

"You don't have to do this," Geralt said determined.

"I need to. I want to," Jaskier really did. He refused to stay wary of touching Geralt. If it meant forcing himself a little then so be it.

"I don't mind the rain," Geralt stated.

"I do. Including watching you stand in it."

Geralt snorted but stayed put.

It kept raining. It kept getting harder to sit pressed against Geralt. Jaskier's leg started bouncing, fingers drumming staccato against his lute case.

Geralt left.

"Come back, you oaf," Jaskier huffed annoyed.

"No. You're nervous," Geralt looked resolute.

"I'm always nervous now!"

"You don't have to be about this," Geralt wasn't making any moves to get back.

"Bloody hell," Jaskier got up and marched into the rain. "Let's stand around and watch our shelter then, shall we? Lovely sight. If only something could keep this rain away."

"Don't be an idiot, Jaskier."

"Oh, if we just could stay as dry as my lute," Jaskier continued. "What ever should we do?"

"Go back in there, you ass."

"Only if you come too," Jaskier really wanted to get out of this rain. It was making him even more miserable. But he was a stubborn little shit to quote Geralt and he was going to use it to get what he wanted.

They ended up in a stare down, neither backing down.

Jaskier sneezed.

Geralt sighed in a frustrated defeat and stomped to sit underneath the lean-to.

Jaskier felt triumphant.

Half an hour later he felt like crawling out of his skin.

Every time Jaskier had felt Geralt start to get out, he had grabbed the Witcher's sleeve for the briefest second to halt his movement. So far Geralt had yielded without a fight. Jaskier didn't think it'd last long.

"Don't do this to yourself," Geralt broke the silence that had settled over them.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Jaskier replied haughtily, tremor in his voice ruining the effect.

"Touching me," the Witcher growled.

"We've done this for a million times before. It's fine," Jaskier's throat was starting to get tight. Why did Geralt have to point out what they were doing? It made it worse.

"Fuck this," Geralt took off, going once again lean against one of the trees the tarp was tied to.

This time Jaskier couldn't make himself follow him. All he could do was close his eyes and focus on breathing. The building panic was receding.

"You don't have to push yourself, Jaskier," Geralt reproached.

"If I stop doing it, I'll just curl on the ground and never move again," his verbal filter really was gone, wasn't it? Or maybe it was an echo of yesterday's want to open up. He wasn't sure if it still stood. Not now that he seemed to be paving the way for the discussion.

"That's…" Geralt seemed to be at loss for words.

"Bad," Jaskier sighed. "That's why I won't stop. I need to do it. I don't want to shatter in pieces, you know. Being full of hairline fractures is enough."

Apparently he was doing this.

He could always stop.

Maybe.

Hugging his lute case close, Jaskier continued. "Geralt… Yesterday I… No. First of all, I'm sorry for dragging you into this shit. But I did kind of realize you're right. Or, uh, it got forced onto me, more like. That I can't, I can't just… ignore things. They'll only flood back. That's what happened."

Geralt was staying blessedly silent.

"You keep telling me I can work through this. But I don't have a fucking clue what to do. At all. I'm just… drowning, almost, and afraid. Of others. Of myself," his voice had turned into a feeble whisper.

Jaskier didn't think he could say anything else. He hadn't gotten far. Telling more ended up being not even an option after all.

"Please, don't say anything. Not right now," he needed to bury the subject for a while. "Please."

Geralt likely took it literally. He wasn't making the faintest of sounds.

Geralt was relieved Jaskier asked him not to respond. He didn't know what to say.

It was both reassuring and surprising Jaskier kept opening up after yesterday. Geralt had been sure he would once again lock everything down. Instead the opposite was happening.

It was a positive development.

Even if the catalyst had been awful.

Apparently his worry about what would happen when Jaskier finally couldn't shut everything away hadn't been baseless. Geralt would have liked to be wrong.

Jaskier looked like a drowned rat. It was an unpleasant thought after how the bard had described his feelings. Still an apt metaphor with the way he was dripping water and looking absolutely miserable in every sense of the word. Geralt was seized by the urge to take Jaskier in his arms. He wrestled it down. No matter what the bard would say, Geralt knew he definitely didn't need more physical contact at the moment.

Fucking Jaskier and his insistence on ignoring his own limits. Ignoring anything dangerous. He seemed to have a fascination with everything perilous. It was a maddening trait even on the best of days, let alone lately.

Jaskier sneezed again.

Geralt fervently hoped the bard wasn't getting sick. It wouldn't be surprising if he did. Jaskier was in poor health already. And wounded. They'd hit the road and head towards the town once the rain let up. Just in case.

Geralt didn't want to tempt fate. She was a bitch and a half.

"You probably want my stiletto?" Jaskier blurted out of nowhere.

"What?" Geralt wasn't sure where that thought came from.

"You said you'd confiscate it if I used it."

Huh, he had said that, hadn't he?

"Keep it."

"Really?" the bard sounded sceptical.

"Yes," self defense wasn't what Geralt had meant by using it. "Better for you to have at least something to fight with."

"Thanks."

Jaskier looked relieved, hand drifting towards his boot. Geralt could sympathize. He too felt naked without his weapons.

Jaskier was starting to freeze, only the cut skimming along his ribs burning. It wasn't a bad one, even now that he had taken a look he could actually remember clearly. He wondered if it'd turn into a scar. He should be fretful about it. He couldn't muster up the slightest sliver of worry.

Geralt had been warm. Jaskier wanted the Witcher back next to him. He wasn't sure if he could bear it.

"Geralt, I'm cold. You're warm," there wasn't any changes in Geralt's expression so he continued. "Come back."

For a moment Jaskier thought the Witcher would do as told. He didn't. Geralt just walked to Roach, rummaging around the saddlebags for the briefest moments, trying to let as little rain in as possible. Done, he threw a bundle of fabrics at the bard.

"Why are you throwing things at me?" Jaskier asked starting to inspect what he was holding. Clothes. Practical. And something Jaskier should probably have thought about an hour ago. He really kept getting all his clothes wet. At least he wasn't at fault this time. Completely.

"Geralt, you threw in a shirt of yours accidentally," Jaskier called out feeling better in his dry attire and waving the mentioned shirt around.

"Wear it."

"Excuse me?" Jaskier was sure he heard wrong.

"Put it on. It'll fit over your clothes," Geralt said blandy.

As if the mere idea wasn't making Jaskier's heart race. He wondered if Geralt could hear it. Hopefully not. The Witcher would just mistake it for fear.

"I'm good. Totally fine. All warmed up."

"Just do it."

Jaskier stared at the shirt for a long minute before carefully pulling it on. It was big and warm. It smelled of Geralt. He wanted to melt into it.

Why did Geralt have to keep doing things like this? It'd be easier if the Witcher was a complete asshole without any redeeming qualities. But no, he just had to be so endearing with his little gestures of kindness.

It was unfair.

Jaskier never had had a chance.

And Geralt wasn't even doing it on purpose.

He was only being him.

"Thank you," Jaskier let the too long sleeves cover his cold fingertips. He was starting to feel cozy.

Geralt had simply meant for Jaskier to get warm.

He hadn't anticipated seeing the bard wearing his shirt would make him feel fluttery. Geralt hadn't _known_ he could feel fluttery.

It was ridiculous. It was just a piece of fabric.

Geralt was grateful it was all but impossible for him to blush. He wanted to go to that fucking river to dunk his head underwater and yell. He would never, ever, mention this to Eskel. Or Vesemir. And definitely not to Lambert. Not even Roach.

Geralt hazarded another glance at Jaskier.

The bard was practically snuggling into his shirt. It wasn't helping.

Geralt looked away.

What the fuck was he doing, reacting like a love sick teenager?

The tree bark under Geralt's fingers was starting to get pulverized with the way he dug his fingers into it.

"Something wrong?" there was dread in Jaskier's voice.

"No," with effort Geralt relaxed his fingers and rolled his shoulders to loosen the tension building in. He was not going to push Jaskier into yet another panic attack just because the bard looked cute in his shirt. "Nothing's wrong."

"Oh. Good."

Jaskier appeared to be more ready to accept that things were fine. Or maybe he had stopped vocalizing his doubts as much. Geralt didn't like that option. He turned, wanting to be sure the bard was staying calm.

During the time Geralt had spent glaring at the scenery, Jaskier had laid down and curled around his lute case, hugging it close. He looked otherwise okay, eyes closed but awake. There was a blush on his pale cheeks which caused Geralt's brows to furrow. He was too far to sense if it was due fever or something else. It bothered him.

"Jaskier, how are you feeling?"

"Like I'm forcing a dog stay out in the rain. Why?"

"A dog," it was nice hearing Jaskier talk like this again. Geralt didn't let it show in his tone. "Are you getting sick?"

"No, I don't think so. Your shirt is very warm," Jaskier mumbled burying even deeper into it. Now only his eyes were showing, rest of his face hidden. They were distractingly blue. "It's wool, isn't it?"

"Hmmm," frankly, Geralt had no idea. He didn't care either. "Tell me if it changes."

Jaskier stared at him, clearly thinking something over before answering. "I'll try."

Not what Geralt would have liked to hear but it'd have to be enough. It was an honest answer. He appreciated that

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fluff?
> 
> In this fic? 
> 
> More likely than you think. 
> 
> No but seriously, it was about time for these two to have a cute, soft moment. A small reprieve among everything.


	27. Chapter 27

The rain started to finally let up little after noon, turning into a drizzle. In a way it was worse in Jaskier's opinion. A good honest rain you could at least keep away with some success but a drizzle found a way to make you damp no matter what. A drizzle had no manners. He had agreed to head to the town since the weather would most likely stay foul or at least unstable for a while after such a long stretch of fair skies. Jaskier wasn't particularly enthusiastic about it but it was the sensible thing to do.

He wondered if this was how Geralt always felt about entering civilization.

They wouldn't reach the town before tomorrow evening, so at least he had time to prepare himself. Besides, Jaskier didn't want to turn into the second hermit of their small party. One was more than enough.

He'd be fine, just fine, among the people. He would.

Jaskier was well aware that the majority of the people were no threats, having no desire to harm him, or in many cases even spare a second thought. He just couldn't be sure about who would be part of the minority. Unlike yesterday's bandits, most people didn't wear their wile intentions openly. That's what worried him. That's what caused a chill creep down his spine.

But he'd be fine.

Jaskier mounted Roach hissing in pain as his wound pulled. He quickly shooed Geralt away, not wanting him to start fussing. There wasn't even anything the Witcher could do. It had just been the movement. It'd soon die down. Riding Roach was less strenuous than walking in any case. It was frustrating but Jaskier knew he wouldn't be traveling far under his own steam. He could feel his energy draining as if he was a bucket full of holes.

Far gone were the days when he wasn't allowed to even touch the mare.

"Don't jump in the river," Geralt snorted as they set out.

"Never going to let that go, are you?" it might be fair after what it did to Geralt but Jaskier would like not to be reminded.

Especially since he still did sort of want to do so.

"Hmmm."

Jaskier wished he had enough enthusiasm, even some sort of drive, to talk about something. Or about nothing. Jaskier would settle for that. Anything if it'd make him start chatter. The silence they were traveling in was turning oppressive.

Instead he kept feeling more and more wretched as the miles passed by. Even bundled up in Geralt's shirt over his own clothes he was getting cold again, the never-ending damp finding its way into his bones. It kept dragging his already low mood down, making his thoughts heavy and attention span nonexistent. It was turning into one of the far too familiar spiraling cycles that kept feeding themselves.

Realizing he hadn't had to brush wet hair out of his eyes even once the whole day wasn't helping. His too short hair felt more of a reminder than relief at the moment. Jaskier gave a frustrated hiss, scratching his scalp.

"Jaskier, stop," Geralt reprimanded him.

He didn't know if he was more annoyed or touched how closely the Witcher was keeping an eye on him.

"I'm _fine_ ," Jaskier groaned.

Geralt just looked him askance, obviously not convinced.

He made a face at the Witcher and ran his hands once more through his hair in defiance.

Geralt huffed and turned to scan the surroundings again.

It was relieving that he was staying even more vigilant than normally after the bandits. Jaskier really didn't care for having another encounter. The day was hard enough without one. He didn't know where his morning's liveliness had disappeared.

He wanted it back.

Geralt followed in dismay how Jaskier kept wilting more and more. They'd need to take a break soon. He had hoped the bard would have a good day considering how the morning had passed. Maybe it had eaten through all of his energy.

It was strange how Geralt kept constantly expecting Jaskier to do better, since he couldn't be considered a positive man by any criteria. But he didn't know how to separate his hopes from expectations in this case.

It lead to constant disappointment.

It was frustrating.

Once again Geralt felt like running Marden through with his sword.

It was as if the bastard had placed a curse on Jaskier. But there wasn't a specific or concrete way to break this one. Geralt preferred when things were straightforward.

There was nothing straightforward about the situation.

Geralt brought Roach to halt, having taken hold of the reins earlier. Jaskier had started to get constantly distracted, spacing out and agitated.

"Let's take a break. We've been making good time."

"By what standard?" Jaskier asked in disbelief.

"Mine," Geralt said, making Jaskier scoff.

Hell, the bard really had slipped into a bad mood. It'd be hard to avoid clashing. It was already making Geralt annoyed. But he was aware of it. He could let barbed comments slide. He hoped. He didn't want to fight. It was weird having to be the one balancing the emotional side of things. Jaskier was normally doing most of the labor, far better suited for it. This was foreign footing.

Geralt hoped he was doing an adequate job.

"Here," Geralt handed some jerky to Jaskier, making sure he started nibbling on it before starting on his.

It was aggravating and concerning in equal measures how the bard still regarded his own well-being as unimportant. In the week and a half he had lost far too much weight. At least he didn't act as difficult about it as he had in the beginning.

"How are you doing?"

The blush on Jaskier's cheeks had died down a long time ago but now he was looking pale and miserable. Geralt didn't like it.

"Not sick," Jaskier huffed, crossing his arms.

"And the cut?"

"Still there."

Geralt took a deep breath through his nose to avoid rising to the bait. Jaskier's new tendency to take things out on him was infuriating. Geralt knew he had a bad habit of doing it himself to the bard but it wasn't making this more easily tolerable.

"How's the still existing cut doing?" at least he managed to curb most of the bite out of his tone.

Jaskier squinted and for a moment Geralt was sure he wouldn't answer. "Hurting. It's a fucking wound. That's what they do. When you're a mere feeble human."

Controlling his temper was hard, indeed. Getting up, Geralt went to retrieve willow bark for Jaskier to chew on. It'd help.

"Thanks," the receding pain seemed to mollify Jaskier a bit.

Geralt should have thought about it earlier. But Witcher's had different pain tolerance than humans and it was sometimes hard to remember such things. If Jaskier would just mention needing something, both of their lives would be far easier.

Jaskier wasn't sure why he hadn't thought something could be done about the pain. He knew very well Geralt carried some sort of painkiller at all times.

It simply hadn't crossed his mind.

But the willow and food were helping. He didn't feel as physically horrible after the break. It was a good thing that Geralt was a practical man. One of them had to be and Jaskier wasn't it even on the best of days if he had to be honest. Too bad there was nothing to be done about the weather.

The monotony of the travel and his own lack of chit-chatting weren't leaving him much more to do than think. He would rather stop doing it with the way his thoughts were far from pleasant. Each time Jaskier tried to focus on anything else, be it his work or something external, he got soon sucked back into running his experience with Marden over and over again in his mind. It was making his heart beat too fast, hands shake, and the stone in his chest grow heavier.

Jaskier couldn't stop.

It didn't take long for him to feel physically ill again.

He hated how the option to ignore parts that had previously been hazy had been wrenched from him.

Apparently his mind was done shielding itself.

Jaskier could regularly feel Geralt's eyes on him, examining and knowing something was amiss. But he wasn't giving enough reasons for the Witcher to comment on it. Jaskier hoped it'd stay like that. He wasn't ready to share. He needed to do it at his own pace. He knew he would only choke on the words, the mere concept if pressed. Geralt had been so incredibly patient, avoiding pressuring him.

Except about this, keeping both hinting and talking straight. Jaskier wished he wouldn't have done so.

Suddenly his fingers started to tingle and the familiar cold feeling was spreading outward from his chest. He needed to dismount.

Now.

Jaskier grabbed the reins to yank Roach to halt and almost fell off in his haste to get to the ground. He managed few stumbling steps before falling on his knees, ignoring everything else than his surging panic and need to breathe.

He fucking hated this. Not being able to control himself. Thinking the wrong thing and getting swallowed by baseless terror.

Jaskier was vaguely aware Geralt was trying to get him to copy his breathing.

He tried to.

After a while it started working and he was able to take shuddering but slow breaths and wipe tears away.

"Jaskier, what happened?" Geralt sounded worried. He was doing that far too much lately.

Jaskier shook his head. "I just- it's nothing. Was just thinking."

The Witcher was looking extremely sceptical. Too bad, it was the truth.

"Geralt… Can I… Can I hold your hand?" it was so hard, on so many levels, to ask for it. Jaskier was afraid of being refused, of sounding ridiculous, of not actually being able to do it.

He shouldn't have opened his mouth.

"Yes," Geralt didn't even hesitate, offering his hands.

Jaskier took hold of them slowly and carefully. He was scared the Witcher would change his mind halfway through.

Geralt's hands were the warmest, safest, things he had felt in hours. They were calloused and steadying, littered in tiny scars, anchoring Jaskier to here and now. Convincing his still racing heart it was fine to calm down.

Almost convincing him that as long as Geralt stayed with him he might be alright one day in the future.

Jaskier's hands were trembling and cold. Fingertips calloused and nails destroyed. But their grip was tight, not wanting to withdraw. Geralt was grateful for being able to offer something concrete to help. Something to ease Jaskier's pain and fear.

Grateful that Jaskier asked for it.

He was hesitantly starting to do it. Not often, not reliably, but at least it was a possibility. Geralt couldn't keep trying to navigate everything blind. He was running out of ideas.

Geralt brushed his thumbs against the backs of Jaskier's hands and the bard let out a barely audible sigh, leaning to rest his forehead against his sternum.

Suddenly Geralt was afraid to breathe and shatter the moment.

They were priceless, fragile minutes they spent like that.

"Thank you. Again," finally Jaskier gave a small squeeze and sat up straight, wiping last stray tears away, voice thick.

"You're welcome," Geralt tried to convey as much sincerity as he possibly could in those words. He would do this whenever Jaskier would ask.

For as long as the bard would want to.

Geralt would put almost anything else on hold for this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They hold hands again...!


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MARDEN WARNING!! aka brief discussion about threat of rape.

The drizzle had dwindled down to only unpleasantly humid air by the time they made camp for the evening. Not listening to his protests Geralt set up their tarp lean-to again so Jaskier could sleep under it in case it'd start raining again during the night. Jaskier still felt like he was kicking Geralt out of their shelter. He didn't like it. But he did go sit underneath it, holding his lute case on his lap, trying to minimize its contact with anything wet. The Witcher had even gotten a fire going, using the _Igni_ sign to make the wet wood catch fire.

Geralt really was trying his best to make their small camp comfortable.

Jaskier already missed wearing Geralt's shirt. It had been comforting. But he had had to relinquish it with how damp it had gotten. Jaskier wouldn't do it but he wanted to go nab another one to snuggle into. Instead he took the bowl of soup Geralt was offering, letting it warm his chilly fingers. It smelled good.

Jaskier saw Geralt was about to say something, so he locked eyes with him and shoved a spoonful of soup into his mouth.

Take that Geralt.

Jaskier burned his tongue.

Geralt's lips started to twitch but he did stay silent.

Worth it.

It felt weird how quiet their mealtimes had turned. Jaskier knew it was him causing it but it was too hard to muster up the will to get a conversation going. It'd require constant focus which simply was out of his reach currently. Jaskier missed the liveliness that previously filled their travels. It wasn't the same without it.

Nothing was the same.

Maybe he really should try talking. There was no one pressuring him to do it. It was completely his choice. He could stop if it got too much. Like in the morning. Maybe he could do it again. And last time Geralt had honored his request to not say anything in response. Geralt seemed okay with him opening up. Jaskier couldn't fathom why. Why would he ever want to hear about how messed up everything was? How broken he was?

But rewinding everything over and over in his head wasn't helping. Jaskier kept demonstrating it. He didn't want to keep constantly breaking down.

Placing his half empty bowl down, Jaskier gathered his frayed nerves and barely existing courage to wield them like a shield against what he was going to try to do.

"Geralt, since last evening, I haven't been able to stop thinking," Jaskier started, incredibly hesitant. "It's… It hasn't been good. I really was just thinking earlier. I wasn't fibbing."

Geralt focused on him with razor-sharp concentration.

"I really have been ignoring some …aspects… of what happened. Not all of it was intentional. Some of the things that happened just… they just… turned foggy. Almost completely gone. Hard to remember. And I didn't want to. Still don't," Jaskier had to take a moment to wrestle his rising anxiety down.

His hands were trembling.

"But- but I can't make it go away. Not again. The thought keeps… keeps repeating," he needed another break.

This was impossible.

Jaskier kept talking.

"I know I've been making you furious. Not admitting. I just… couldn't," Jaskier blinked threatening tears away. "I don't know what to do about it."

"Jaskier, I haven't been furious with you," Geralt interrupted for the first time. "Except for the jump."

Jaskier shook his head and swallowed nervously. The Witcher took the hint and fell silent again with a deep frown.

"I was so terrified of Marden. Of what I… what I… was sure he- he would… d-d-do. He said he was _indulging_ me for now. He st-stopped. After seeing the scars on my back. He stopped. He just shoved clothes at me and… and… and… wa-wa-wat-watched."

Jaskier was crying and shaking now. It was so hard to breathe.

"The- the look in his eyes… I've never been more te-terrified. I'm sure if- if I had stayed little longer… Even little… He- he- he- would have-" Jaskier curled around his knees, grabbing his hair in a death grip.

How could one word be so horribly hard to say?

"He would- would- have-"

Jaskier needed to to say it.

"R-ra-ra-raped me."

There was no air in the world.

_He was laying on the floor with a bleeding foot and clad only in a towel._

Geralt had known, _known_ , Jaskier hadn't told him everything and now he couldn't stop worrying about what else the bard had glossed over. It was easy to understand why he had tried so hard to erase the memory. But it wasn't the time to ponder about the new information.

Jaskier had driven himself into the same state as he had been in yesterday.

Geralt should have asked what he was supposed to do.

He moved close enough to Jaskier that he could be grabbed if the bard wanted to do so. This time Geralt didn't even contemplate touching him, remembering the reaction. It also didn't seem wise after what had been said.

"Jaskier, Jaskier, you're safe. It's okay, it's only me and Roach here. No one is going to touch you. I promise," there wasn't much else he could do but talk.

"Marden-"

The name made Jaskier flinch.

"That fucking-"

That curse was out too for now.

Different rules from the new normal then.

"The bastard's dead. I killed him. You saw it. He's gone. Dead. He can't hurt you. You're safe. Jaskier, you're safe," Geralt didn't know what else to do but repeat facts over and over. "Jaskier, Jaskier, you're not there anymore. You're camping with me. And Roach. It's safe, you're safe, promise. It's over, you survived, and now you're safe. Jaskier."

It didn't take quite as long as last time for Jaskier to regain his awareness of the reality around him.

"Jaskier, what do you need?" Geralt waited for an answer this time.

The bard was just blinking at him with bleary eyes, looking seconds away from collapsing.

"Jaskier? Come on Jaskier. Words. Just tell me what you need. Or want."

Only answer he got was Jaskier slowly dragging his hands over his face.

"Hey, bard, focus," Geralt snapped his fingers in attempt to capture his attention again. "Jaskier, look at me."

He got his wish as Jaskier lifted his face.

"I…"

A start.

"…Water...?"

Of fucking course he would want water the one time Geralt wasn't forcing it into his hands. He reached for the waterskin and offered it to Jaskier who took it with badly shaking hands. The bard was shaking all over.

"I'm getting you a blanket," Geralt said, standing up. He could hear a small alarmed sound escaping Jaskier. "It's just a few feets. I'm staying."

Jaskier did seem a bit calmer after he had wrapped himself into the blanket, clutching it desperately. He still hadn't said anything else.

Geralt wished he could wrap his arms around him.

Instead he kept studying Jaskier, concerned he would start biting his nails or scratching himself. The bard wasn't making a move to do either. He was just huddling silently, looking drawn. Geralt didn't know how to coax him into speaking. Asking anything about what had been revealed was an awful idea and he had never managed to learn how to make small talk. Even traveling with Jaskier hadn't corrected that.

So Geralt stewed silently, keeping an eye on the bard, worried something would happen.

He wanted to be satisfied that Jaskier had finally accepted Marden's actions and intentions for him had been far from innocent, but he couldn't. At all, in any way, in any form. Instead Geralt was as close to horrified as he could be.

Jaskier's reaction to his experience made so much sense. It wouldn't have been overdramatic at all in any case, but the new information just kept cementing the reasons.

Marden's actions were abhorrent.

That fucking bastard had clearly taken sadistic enjoyment from mind games, keeping Jaskier terrified of what ifs on top of the things already happening.

Sometimes humans really were the worst monsters.

Once again Jaskier would have loved to have gotten the catharsis from sharing things. Instead he had achieved another awful all encompassing flashback, losing touch with the reality, and echoes of unwanted touches following him out of it.

He hoped that he'd feel better about it later.

The experience of baring all that to Geralt to hear, to judge, had been frightening. Putting it into words alone had been frightening.

Words had power.

Jaskier could never take them back, never again hide from what he had been convinced would happen. It was out in the world now. Breathed into existence. Whispered for others to hear, to bear, to think about.

It wasn't fair to Geralt.

He had acted selfishly, forcing the Witcher to carry the weight.

He kept doing that.

Jaskier laid down, feeling drained of everything except growing self-loathing. He was being a terrible friend, making Geralt take care of everything, him included. Just shoving more and more shit on the Witcher's shoulders. Jaskier didn't know why Geralt kept putting up with him. He had turned into nothing but a burden. He was being despicable. Absolutely detestable.

And worst of all, Jaskier didn't know how to stop.

"I'm sorry. Geralt, I'm so sorry," apologizing was the only thing he could do. "I'm so, so, sorry for this. For forcing my problems onto you. You don't deserve it. Any of this."

"I'm an awful friend," Jaskier couldn't look at Geralt. He continued being horrible, not even being able to face him. He just wanted to disappear.

"Stop! Stop fucking apologizing!"

Geralt sounded angry. Of course. He should be.

"Don't you dare to blame yourself, Jaskier! Fuck! Stop, just stop," Geralt took a breath. He didn't stay calm for more than one sentence. "You're not at fault. Not for any of this shit! Hell, you can't even control most of it!"

That was the problem, not having control over anything, not even himself. Jaskier couldn't help but cover a bit from the yelling. He could hear the Witcher hiss in fury.

"I _want to hear_ about your problems, you idiot!"

Jaskier hadn't expected that.

"I _want to be able to help_! Have you any idea, any fucking idea, how hard it is to watch you suffer silently? Huh?!"

Geralt sounded absolutely livid. It didn't fit his words.

"The only things you're being awful about is not telling me what you need and not taking care of yourself! Stop acting like you don't matter, you bastard!"

Jaskier was at loss for words. He really, really didn't know what to do with Geralt's outburst. The Witcher had shouted at him many times but never like this. Never with such words.

Jaskier wasn't in any shape to deal with this.

"I'm sorry?" he tried feebly.

"I told you to fucking stop using that word!"

"Sorry."

"Stop. Saying. Sorry!"

"I don't know what else to say. I'm just so sorry I dragged you into this," Jaskier wanted to tug the blanket over his head to shield himself.

"Stop being so, I chose this, I chose _you!_ I could walk away at any time but I don't! Because I don't want to!"

Geralt finally fell silent, panting from yelling his throat sore.

Fuck.

He had finally ran out of patience.

At a really fucking bad timing.

He was very good at that.

Geralt fervently hoped he hadn't done damage.

Jaskier was practically hiding under the blanket.

Shit. That wasn't a good sign.

Geralt forced his fists open, reining his temper in, not wanting to do more harm than he already had. This was so fucking wrong. Jaskier had just admitted something that was tearing him apart and he had started shouting at him minutes later. If someone here was acting awful it was him.

"I didn't mean to lose my temper," Geralt admitted. "Or shout at you."

Jaskier didn't respond.

"I'm sorry," and here he was, saying sorry after yelling about the word. "I shouldn't have done it."

"It's okay," Jaskier said in the faintest whisper, not looking at him. "I understand."

Geralt was sure Jaskier was misunderstanding. "Good. I'm glad you figured out you're not at fault."

There was a doubtful hum.

"It's the situation, what Marden did, I'm pissed at. Not you," Jaskier didn't flinch at the name anymore, hadn't at the cursing either, Geralt realized. "You just were here, shifting the blame on yourself. Easy to target."

It felt like he was spelling things out. Hopefully Jaskier wouldn't take it as an insult.

Geralt just wanted to be clear.

"Thank you for telling me more," Geralt tried to put some of the things he shouted into a more appropriate tone. "I mean what I …yelled. About wanting to help."

"...Thanks…" Jaskier's voice was all but inaudible. The conversation was obviously finished as the bard drew the blanket over his head, blocking everything out.

Geralt knew he had fucked things up again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...Yeah. That happened, poor boys. ;w;


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING!!
> 
> Italicized nightmare right at the start describes a sexual assault. And Jaskier's reaction to it after waking up isn't pretty. 
> 
> Please, Please, skip to where Geralt's POV starts if you want to avoid reading it! 
> 
> (Geralt is everyone's safe haven)

_"-There was a hot breath against Jaskier's skin, kisses and bruising bites leaving ugly, painful, trails everywhere. Insistent fingers tugging at the laces securing his trousers, loosening them and nails scratching his stomach. Marden rolling his hips, trying to force pleasured sounds from Jaskier's lips. The only thing passing them was a-"_

Scream.

Jaskier tried to fight his way to safety, but his legs were stuck under Marden's weight. He didn't have enough leverage. He couldn't get away. He couldn't-!

"Jaskier! Whatever you think is happening isn't real. You had a nightmare."

Jaskier couldn't stop the screams.

_He didn't want this!_

"Jaskier, Jaskier! Listen to me! It's a dream. You're safe."

Safe? He wasn't safe. Not splayed under Marden. Not anywhere near Marden.

He wasn't safe.

He needed to get away.

Something was holding his legs, making moving them hard.

"A nightmare, Jaskier! You had a nightmare. Look at me. Look at me Jaskier."

Jaskier's panicked gaze fell on familiar yellow eyes. When -how- had Geralt gotten here?

"You're safe, I promise. Safe, you hear? It was a dream, a nightmare. Not real."

Not… real?

But his legs…

Were tangled with his blanket.

Huh.

There was no one straddling him.

His pants were tightly laced.

His shirt was on.

No soft bed under his back.

It really hadn't been real.

Jaskier rolled onto his side and vomited.

He could hear Geralt make an alarmed sound at his reaction, but he was too busy retching to pay attention. There were tears dripping down and he had barely enough strength in his arms to keep himself from collapsing. There was nothing else in his stomach but he couldn't stop.

His throat burned and mouth tasted disgusting when he was finally able to roll onto his back again. It hadn't been real. It hadn't. It easily could have. Jaskier wasn't able to hold back a terrified whine.

Why had he spoken his fears into existence? Why?!

It'd have been better to have kept them locked in after all.

He hadn't had nightmares of this magnitude before.

Jaskier couldn't shake the fear.

He felt like he was a hostage of his own mind.

He wanted a temporary break from existing.

Just long enough to regain some equilibrium.

He knew it wasn't an option.

"Jaskier? Can I do something?"

Jaskier didn't want to deal with Geralt. He didn't want to deal with anything. So he just turned his back on the Witcher and burrowed back under the blanket. It was disgusting laying down next to the mess he had made. Jaskier would have liked to get away from it. He couldn't move an inch, too exhausted, too petrified, too detached from his body.

"Don't you want to move?"

Jaskier didn't answer, just breathed.

There were sounds he couldn't place and the smell diminished greatly.

"Tell me if there's anything I can do, okay?"

Jaskier only closed his eyes, knowing he wouldn't fall asleep.

Geralt had been woken up by screaming. For a second he was sure they were being attacked, but it turned out to be Jaskier. It looked like the bard was trying to get away from something but managing only to get tangled in his blanket. Had to be a nightmare. An extremely violent one.

Geralt had a good guess what it was about.

It was heart wrenching to watch the bard struggle with the aftereffects. Geralt desperately wanted to help. He couldn't. All he was able to do was cover the vomit with dirt to make things more tolerable.

Jaskier was ignoring everything, curled under his blanket and shuddering.

Geralt felt absolutely useless.

His earlier actions definitely hadn't helped the bard handle things. Shouting his frustrations had been such a bad mistake. Geralt knew he had been nearing his patience's breaking point, but he never imagined he would let it erupt when Jaskier was in such a fragile state. He just… hadn't been able to take any more of Jaskier blaming himself. For anything.

Hopefully, hopefully the bard would be able to focus on the words instead of the delivery after he had calmed down. It would be the only way to avoid having destroyed everything. Geralt disliked how he hurt people around him without meaning.

Hated hurting Jaskier.

Someone he loved.

And now he could only keep vigil, make sure Jaskier wouldn't get worse or do something rash. Geralt couldn't get rid of the image of Jaskier jumping into that fucking river. The bard had sounded completely sincere about not having any such plans but the idea wasn't leaving Geralt alone. He never wanted to witness anything even remotely similar again.

Geralt knew neither of them would sleep more this night.

The morning arrived just as cloudy as yesterday. It wasn't raining yet but the smell was in the air and clouds heavy. Jaskier was still shielding himself with the blanket.

"Morning, Jaskier," Geralt greeted while digging a saddlebag for breakfast.

"...Morning..."

That was unexpected. Geralt had been sure the bard wouldn't be talking any time soon. He wasn't complaining.

"How are you feeling?" Geralt wasn't sure if asking anything was the right thing to do but he needed to know.

"Exhausted," it took a while for Jaskier to answer but he did.

Maybe everything truly hadn't been broken by his outburst of anger. Geralt wasn't sure if he dared to believe it yet.

"There's breakfast. And we should continue on while it's not raining if you want to," Geralt hoped the answer to both would be positive.

"...Sure," Jaskier mumbled, sitting up and wrapping the blanket around his shoulders.

The bard might be listless but he was doing so much better than Geralt had feared.

It felt huge.

Jaskier was feeling exhausted and hollow as if a piece of him had been carved off. He didn't know if it was a positive or negative thing, hadn't yet figured out what had disappeared. All he knew was that he wouldn't be able to get through yet another talk. Or be shouted at. He was an empty eggshell, little too much pressure and he would simply crack under it.

He just… needed to simply exists for a bit.

Jaskier took the food and water from Geralt without complaints but couldn't force himself to swallow more than few bites. The Witcher had been right. He couldn't bother to take care of himself. It felt like an unimportant and too draining struggle compared to everything else. It was just easier to give up when his body rebelled.

He probably should try harder for Geralt's sake.

Jaskier couldn't do it now. Geralt seemed to understand it since he wasn't as insistent about finishing eating as usually.

It was a relief.

As Geralt started to pack up, Jaskier moved to lean against a tree, hugging his lute case close and feeling cold inside out after relinquishing the blanket. Something soft was dropped in his lap as Geralt walked past him.

A shirt.

Jaskier guessed it was a silent apology.

Wearing it did make him feel slightly better. It was nice how the sleeves covered his fingers, warming them. It felt as close to a hug as he could handle. He missed being hugged. Jaskier could get used to wearing Geralt's shirts even if they weren't particularly fashionable.

Jaskier didn't know if Geralt had been extremely fast or if he had zoned out for a while but it felt like they set out only seconds after the Witcher started. Unlike yesterday, Jaskier's mind was quiet, everything muted but present, only the constant undercurrent of anxiety disturbing it. All thoughts just seemed to slip away the moment he became aware of them.

It was peaceful in a way.

It had been a long time since things were quiet.

He could just float along, watch the wind shake drops from trees and move the huge unbroken mass of clouds. Let Roach take care of following Geralt.

It started to rain again.

"Jaskier? Hey, focus," it seemed like Geralt had tried to grab his attention more than once.

"Yeah?"

"Want to take shelter?"

Jaskier observed the clouds some more before answering, letting raindrops hit his uplifted face and run along his cheeks. They were cool against his skin. "No. It's not raining that hard."

"Hmmm."

Jaskier didn't have the energy to try to decipher the hum. But Geralt continued walking and Roach followed. It was fine.

Jaskier could simply breath.

It was the only thing he wanted to do.

Let the world go on without him for a bit.

He had nothing left to offer it currently.

Jaskier just wanted to be and keep breathing.

He got his wish as Geralt stayed as silent as usual without him prompting conversation and the road their riverside path had joined stayed blessedly empty. They were the only travelers.

Sitting straight was getting hard.

Geralt kept studying him with a frown.

The town's lights came within eyesight as they reached the peak of a small hill. They were close. Maybe half an hour longer. Jaskier could do that. It'd be foolish to stop now when they were almost there. It didn't matter that it took effort to keep his head from drooping. He had already given in and let himself slump a bit, trusting Roach keep him from falling.

Geralt was looking displeased.

That was quite normal.

The Witcher found them an inn and led Roach to the stable. Jaskier's legs almost gave as he dismounted, only grabbing the saddle saving him from banged-up knees.

Geralt looked even more displeased but didn't comment.

"Are you going to perform?" he asked instead, sounding like the mere idea was loathsome.

Jaskier would like to. "No."

Geralt blinked in surprise.

"Not tonight. Maybe tomorrow," Jaskier continued, hoisting his lute case. He simply couldn't put himself out there, garnering attention, today.

"Geralt… Could you… Could you take care of the talking?" he hated that even such a tiny interaction would be too much. "To get a room?"

"Yeah. I can do it," Geralt was once again scrutinizing him.

"Thanks."

The inn's tavern was a lively place, people having gathered to spend the rainy evening. Everything about it was grating Jaskier's nerves, sounds too loud and people too many. At least Geralt was quick with the transaction. While some of the din made it to their room, it was mostly muted and possible to ignore. It was just them again.

Jaskier felt like crying in relief.

Instead he carefully placed his lute case on the floor and slid along the wall to sit next to it. He was done for the day. Just done. Nothing left to give.

"Jaskier, what's wrong?" Geralt was kneeling in front of him, brows furrowed. "And don't say nothing."

"I don't know," it was the truth. "I don't know."

Jaskier wished he did. Something had changed after opening up so much. He just didn't know what.

"Can I touch your forehead?" Geralt asked, hand hovering between them.

Jaskier gave a jerky nod, not exactly sure what the Witcher thought it'd achieve. Geralt's cool hand pressed gently against his face.

Geralt gave a displeased huff. "You have a fever."

Ah. That explained the foreign physical aches that had joined in with everything else.

"Okay," Jaskier shrugged. It wasn't a big deal. He would rather figure out what was going on with his faulty brain.

"It's not fucking okay, you idiot," Geralt didn't seem to share his views if his grumble was anything to go by.

"Jaskier, I need to see your wound. It might be infected, causing the fever. I'd let you do it yourself but it might be too mild for now for you to recognize since I can't smell it," Geralt said seriously.

No. No. Jaskier didn't want to do it. He didn't want to take his shirt off in front of Geralt. Anyone. He drew his knees up, shielding his chest, and shook his head.

"I understand but it's important. It'll just get worse if that's the case," Geralt was speaking in the same tone he used for calming Roach. Jaskier wasn't sure what to think of it.

He didn't want to. But Geralt was right. It had to be done.

Jaskier managed the tiniest nod.

"Lift your shirt?"

Jaskier's hands hovered over it. He had done it earlier, let Geralt see the bruises. He could do it again. Swallowing nervously, Jaskier slowly tugged his chemise up to show the bandage circling his torso.

"Lean forward, I need to unwind that."

Jaskier did so, biting his lip as Geralt's hands brushed against him. He knew the Witcher could feel him start trembling.

It was Geralt, just Geralt. He wouldn't do anything.

Jaskier knew it.

It was terrifying placing his trust in Geralt's hands.

"Thanks. Jaskier, I have to touch you," the Witcher was seeking eye contact. "I can't just look at the cut."

Jaskier couldn't meet Geralt's eyes, just closed his, fighting against tears. He couldn't verbally answer, giving another jerky nod of consent.

"I won't do more than I need to. You do know that?"

Jaskier nodded. He was starting to lose the fight.

Geralt's fingers prodding gently and efficiently around the wound were cool, colder than against his forehead. The Witcher might have been right about the developing infection. Jaskier was sure his skin wasn't supposed to be that warm.

He couldn't stop his breaths from turning shallow and shuddery.

There was a displeased hum as Geralt stopped examining the cut.

"It's starting to show early signs, nothing serious. It'd probably have been just fine if you weren't already so stressed that it's affecting your health. The rain didn't help. Bet you have a cold," Geralt said getting up. "Can I treat it?"

He might as well after everything else.

And it'd make Geralt feel better.

It didn't take long for Jaskier to be bandaged up again and Geralt to step out to allow him change into dry clothes.

Jaskier sat down on the bed. It felt uncomfortable after his nightmare. He laid down, burrowing himself under the covers, doing his best to blink the tears away.

"Come in," Jaskier said as loudly as he could. It was barely at the volume of a normal conversation but he was sure Geralt would hear it anyway.

"Are you okay?" Geralt sounded so sincere. He seemed to have dropped his gruffness at the stable and forgotten to pick it up.

"...Yeah…" it was barely a whisper. After forcing it out, Jaskier buried his face into the pillow.

If he had been done with the day earlier, now he felt done with the whole week.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Jaskier caught a cold. :<
> 
> btw, it also is only a cold, not gonna turn into anything more serious. His immune system is just out of whack with the terrible stress leves, lack of sleep & nourishment, getting wounded and then rained on for two days. :"""DD ...Sorry Jaskier... <3<3<3


	30. Chapter 30

Geralt wished he hadn't had to do that.

Hadn't been the cause for Jaskier's tears.

But it had been important.

He couldn't just ignore the wound and hope for the best. It wasn't a pleasant thought but Geralt knew he couldn't trust Jaskier to look after himself well enough to take care of it. Not on purpose, it'd just slip from the bard's mind leading to the wound festering. Geralt didn't want to contemplate the consequences any further than that.

He wasn't going to let it happen.

And Jaskier was letting him help.

It was what Geralt had been waiting for.

It was incredibly relieving not having made everything worse with his outburst. Jaskier's ability to bounce back from things kept surprising him, even if Geralt wasn't optimistic enough to think for a second there wouldn't be problems arising from it in the future. He would just take care of them then.

Not having lost Jaskier's trust was more than enough.

And Jaskier would continue clawing his way through everything else too.

Geralt knew he would.

There wasn't much of Jaskier showing with the way he had buried himself underneath the blanket and smushed his face into the pillow. Geralt wasn't exactly sure how he managed to breath like that. But the bard did seem relatively content with his pose, breaths having returned to normal and trembling gone. Geralt hoped he'd fall asleep soon. Jaskier needed all the rest he possibly could manage. If the bard just could sleep, he'd start to feel much better, both mentally and physically. Geralt doubted he would be getting a whole night of undisturbed sleep for a while longer, but maybe the hours at least would start increasing. Geralt was determined to stay up and keep waking Jaskier up if his nightmares started to turn alarming. He didn't want a repeat of last night.

Jaskier would want it even less.

It was calming to listen to Jaskier's deep, steady breathing after he had finally drifted off to sleep. Geralt could easily slip into a meditative state, rousing himself whenever the rhythm changed, ready to wake the bard up.

Or do his awkward best to sooth Jaskier before he could bolt awake.

It was closer to noon before Jaskier showed true signs of waking up instead of startling from nightmares. Geralt had been perfectly fine letting him sleep as late as he needed. There was nowhere to be and it'd only do good, unlike when the bard tried to sleep a whole day away due not having the will to face it.

Jaskier was looking disoriented and worried as he sat up. "Where…?"

"The inn. We got here yesterday evening," Geralt frowned, there was unnatural red on Jaskier's cheeks.

"Oh, yeah. That's… We did that," the bard seemed greatly relieved the moment he became truly aware of the Witcher.

"I need to check your temperature," Geralt stated, walking towards Jaskier.

There was a long pause before the bard gave a deep sigh.

"...Sure…"

Jaskier's fever was higher than last evening. Not even close to dangerous, but it still made Geralt want to grind his teeth in frustration. As if there wasn't enough to worry about. Before he could lift his hand away, Jaskier leaned slightly into the touch and Geralt froze up. He wasn't sure if Jaskier was seeking the coolness of his hand or the contact. In either case he didn't want to be the one to move away.

It didn't last long but Geralt was aware of each second.

"I'll get us something to eat," Geralt said as Jaskier leaned away from him.

The bard's eyes widened and flashed in panic before he schooled his expression. "Sure."

"I'll be just downstairs," Geralt didn't actually want to leave him alone. He was surprised Jaskier didn't seem interested in coming along. The bard had to be feeling really bad.

"I know."

"I'll be quick."

"I know."

There wasn't anyone at the bar when Geralt reached it. Annoyed, he rapped the counter loudly to gather attention of whoever was in charge.

"Just a minute!" a woman's voice called out from the backroom.

Geralt banged the wood harder.

"Jeez, impatient much?" a young brunette grumbled quietly to herself as she hurried to the counter, wiping her wet hands on an apron. Geralt was sure he wasn't supposed to hear it.

"So, how can I help you?" she asked with a smile.

"Food and drinks for two, a bowl of cold water and a towel. I'll take them upstairs," Geralt said, already fishing for the coins.

"Right. What sort of drinks? And we have still food left from breakfast if that's fine with you? Lunch isn't ready yet."

"Yes. Ale and water," Geralt didn't care at all that it wasn't even noon yet. He needed a drink.

"I'll get them to you shortly," the barmaid said, turning to go back to the kitchen. "Could you not hit our counter again? Please?"

Geralt was seized by an urge to do so, just because. He didn't. Instead he crossed his arms and send a death glare at the early patrons who were observing him, making them quickly avert their curious eyes.

Objectively the woman was fast and efficient, bringing everything out in minutes. She was far too slow.

"I'll help you," she offered, leaving the bowl and towel for Geralt to carry.

"Is your bard going to perform today? We would have absolutely loved to hear him play yesterday."

"He's _not my bard,_ " Geralt snarled. Jaskier wasn't anyone's.

"Sorry!" the barmaid flinched so hard from his sudden anger she almost spilled the drinks.

Geralt gave her a furious glare before knocking twice on the door, unlocked it, and stepped in. He saw Jaskier quickly straighten up and drop a hand from his lips. He had probably been biting his nails again, Geralt realized in dismay.

Jaskier froze up completely, not even breathing as the barmaid followed Geralt into the room to place the tray on the small table. He seemed to be caught completely off guard by the stranger coming in.

"Hi! Will you be singing for us tonight?" she asked, smiling brightly at Jaskier.

Jaskier stayed absolutely still.

"Out," Geralt commanded, looming over her menacingly and pointed at the door.

"Fine, fine!" the woman started walking backwards, holding her hands placatingly. "I'm going, I'm going. Sorry for intruding."

Geralt slammed the door shut in her face and turned to face the bard.

"Jaskier, are you alright?"

Jaskier finally exhaled and ran hands through his hair. "Ye-yeah. I just… I just didn't expect her."

Geralt could see the faint tremor in his hands. He should have warned Jaskier before letting her in. Well, the mistake was already done. Time to move on.

"Got you food and water," he said, taking Jaskier's portion and brought it to the bard who took it without a comment.

"Thanks."

Jaskier's voice had turned hoarse. And not from fear. He really had caught a cold then. Good thing they had reached the inn before he got sick. He would get better faster than if they were camping in the wilderness.

Jaskier felt like his throat was full of sand and someone was hammering his head to the beat of his pulse.

Water was nice, washing some of the gravel away with it. The food he could only pick at, repulsed by the smell. There was nothing actually wrong with it.

"Did you take care of the cut yet?" Geralt asked.

"No," Jaskier had been too busy swallowing his anxiety down to do anything else. Besides, Geralt would definitely want to take another look at it too.

"Let me."

Jaskier had guessed correctly.

He still wasn't comfortable with it. But it was the best thing to do. He could handle it. He could. Geralt knew how to do it quickly and efficiently, much better than he ever would. It'd be fine. He'd be fine.

He trusted Geralt.

Jaskier gave a nod and a hum, his voice not cooperating again. He hated that, would never get used to it. He didn't want to. But Geralt's face was almost worth the discomfort the idea of hands touching his chest caused, showing such well hidden gratefulness at being allowed to treat the wound. It really did seem like he just wanted to help, to be able to do something for him.

Jaskier couldn't stop his hands from shaking again when he slowly lifted his chemise, or his eyes from stinging and breath catching. But it was more bearable than last time.

Geralt's fingers were cold against his feverish skin, making him shiver.

It was a relief when he could let his chemise fall, covering everything again. It felt safer. A silly thing to feel about a flimsy shirt even he could easily tear apart but here he was. There was a sound of water moving and Geralt returned to his side, holding a small folded towel.

"Lay down and place this on your forehead," Geralt said handing Jaskier the towel.

It was pleasantly cool.

Jaskier decided it was a good suggestion.

He laid down and covered almost all of his face, making Geralt snort. Jaskier just wanted to maximize the feeling. There were no rules how to use a cold towel. If it would help, Jaskier would take it. He was feeling horrible.

"Shit!" Geralt sounded annoyed instead of alarmed so Jaskier decided it'd be alright for him to stay as he was. Still, he couldn't help but briefly tense up.

"Jaskier, take this."

Now he did have to move. Geralt was presenting him painkiller. That was kind. Jaskier had again forgotten such things existed. He should try to remember.

"You're so sweet."

Fuck.

There he went again. Jaskier hoped Geralt would mistake his blush for fever. He quickly slapped the towel on his face again, blocking the Witcher out. He didn't want to see the reaction.

_"I chose you!"_

Jaskier wasn't sure if Geralt really had yelled that. There had been a lot of words, a lot of shouting. Everything had already felt unreal and disconnected from the moment Jaskier had decided to admit things to Geralt, let alone during the confrontation. And that particularly seemed more like wishful thinking than an actual thing Geralt would ever say.

Why would Geralt even make a such choice, choose him, especially now?

Jaskier didn't have enough energy to try make sense of it. Or many of the other things Geralt, possibly, had flung at him in anger. It was frustratingly hard to ignore the yelling part. The Witcher tended to do it pretty often but this time Jaskier was feeling vaguely ill and hurt about the act. He had trouble letting it slide off him like usually. Better not to even think about it. Better to let it be for now.

Jaskier tried to relax. Maybe it'd help with the all the aches. His limbs were ridiculously heavy.

He wondered if it was safe to attempt to fall asleep.

He didn't know.

"Geralt? Is it safe for me to sleep?"

The Witcher was a better judge of danger. It was practically his job.

"Yes, Jaskier. You can sleep," Geralt said softly. "It's safe."

That was all Jaskier needed to hear.

Jaskier woke himself up by a sudden coughing fit.

He couldn't draw air into his lungs, making him immediately think of the panic attacks. They weren't similar at all to hacking his lungs out.

It was as if his brain wanted to associate everything with something terrible.

Jaskier thought he might be onto something.

But he was still having hard time breathing.

It was the more pressing issue.

Geralt was giving him awkward and frankly useless advice. Jaskier would have loved to follow it, his body just had other ideas. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he managed to take a breath his lungs didn't immediately expel. Jaskier had grown a new appreciation for breathing since the feast. Air was a precious thing.

Jaskier slumped back to the mattress, all his strength spent and the cut hurting from panting. It was in an inconvenient spot, constantly pulling slightly with his breathing. He was shivering. The blanket that had bunched around his hips was too far to pull up. His arms were feeling too weak.

"Jaskier, you need to drink," Geralt stated, sounding very determined.

Jaskier wasn't sure why Geralt thought he could hold a mug when a blanket was too heavy.

"Hmph."

"Sit up."

Why didn't Geralt understand he couldn't?

"Jaskier."

The moment Jaskier opened his mouth a few more coughs escaped him. That worked too.

"Can you sit up?" there was a frown in the Witcher's voice.

Jaskier shook his head. Maybe now he would be left alone. He really wanted that.

"You'll choke if you try to drink like that," Geralt said displeased. "I'll help you up."

"No," Geralt most definitely wouldn't. Jaskier didn't want to be touched, he didn't want to move. He just wanted to lay here and hope every ache and hurt would disappear.

"You have to drink. You have a fever, Jaskier," Geralt sounded extremely frustrated. He would soon start to grind his teeth. Geralt was using the tone always preceding it. "If you can't sit up, I'll help you. But you need to do it."

Idea of being touched was making Jaskier's already short breath shorter. He really, really didn't want to be handled. He was too weak. He wouldn't be able to fight his blanket off, let alone a person. Slowly and laboriously Jaskier managed to lift himself into a position that was at least resembling upright.

Geralt gave a pleased hum.

The Witcher handed him the mug, having to immediately catch it as it started to slip from Jaskier's weak grip. The simple act of drinking ended up needing both of them to succeed.

Jaskier would have been embarrassed if he had enough energy for it. Instead he flopped back down, accepting Geralt's hovering hand to briefly touch his forehead. The Witcher gave a disapproving grumble.

Soon after the freshly dampened towel was placed on it again.

It was nice.

Jaskier was already drifting back to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 30???? When did that happen??? 
> 
> But at least it's relatively peaceful one!


	31. Chapter 31

Geralt was less than pleased with the way Jaskier's fever had gone up. At least it was caused by the cold and not the wound since it hadn't worsened, looking actually better. Still, Jaskier hadn't been healthy beforehand and while his fever hadn't turned dangerous, it was leaving him weak and even more exhausted.

The bard didn't deserve it.

Not that sicknesses cared.

But there were things he could do about it.

He considered if it'd be fine to leave Jaskier alone for a while. Geralt didn't like the idea of him waking up to an empty room, but he needed to fetch boiling water. Since Jaskier hadn't fallen asleep that long ago, the bard probably would stay like that for a while. Decided, he marched back downstairs.

The counter was empty again and Geralt was prepared to smash his fist right through it if it only would speed things up.

"Don't hit it!" the same woman as before hurried out of the backroom, leaving him no time to even lift his hand.

"Boiling water," Geralt ordered before being asked. He wasn't going to waste a second more than he had to.

"Fine," she turned on her heels and headed back, muttering to herself, done with rude customers.

Geralt couldn't give a rat's ass about being rude.

The barmaid returned, placing a steaming pitcher of water on the counter with slightly more force than strictly necessary. "There."

Since she wasn't saying anything about payment, Geralt simply grabbed it and hurried back to their room. Jaskier was still sleeping. Good. He placed the pitcher on the table and retrieved the bag holding his potions and ingredients, as well as Jaskier's mug. Grinding and mixing herbs was a calming activity with its familiarity and knowledge he was helping in a concrete way. Geralt dropped everything into the hot water and left it to steep.

Jaskier wasn't showing any signs of waking up. It was a shame he'd have to interrupt his sleep in a few minutes even if it'd be for the best. The tea started to smell right, so Geralt poured a mug and took it with him as he went to wake the bard up.

Jaskier wasn't pleased at all about being roused from his slumber.

He did seem pleased with the way the tea soothed his throat.

It didn't take long for the bard to drift off again, leaving Geralt alone with his thoughts.

Jaskier felt better the next time he woke up. It was a welcome change. He wasn't aching as much and his head felt clearer.

"Geralt?" Jaskier's voice still sounded like he was rubbing two stones against each other.

"Hmmm?" the Witcher looked up. He appeared to be doing his routine maintenance for his weapons.

"Tea?"

"It's cold but will work," Geralt said, pouring a refill. Jaskier guessed he had prepared enough to fill the whole pitcher.

Sitting up was still bit of a struggle but he could shuffle himself into an actual upright position and hold the mug. Progress. If monster hunting ever went out of fashion Geralt could make a living by selling cold remedies.

"Just ask," Jaskier sighed, tiring of the way Geralt stared unblinkingly at him.

Geralt worked his jaw silently before spitting his question out. "What should I do when you're having a flashback?"

Was Geralt, _Geralt_ , asking him for _advice?_

No wonder the Witcher had been giving him the death stare. Jaskier had never heard Geralt do that.

"Uhhhh," too bad he didn't really have the answer.

Jaskier lowered his gaze to watch his fingers worry the blanket. Trying to shift through his disjointed memories of the flashbacks was sending cold shivers that had nothing to do with the fever down his spine.

"I don't… I think… You were were talking? Last time?" Jaskier mumbled. "It was… helping. Giving something to focus on. Something that wasn't part of the… memories."

"I can't- I couldn't tell the difference. Of it being… being a memory, not real. You weren't a- a part of it. So hearing you-" Jaskier's voice cracked, turning into coughs. He didn't continue after getting his breath back.

It felt like he was teetering on an edge. Jaskier wanted to step back, not get sucked in. He tried to focus on the feeling of fabric rubbing against his fingers, keeping his breathing steady, fighting against the sudden urge to bite his nails.

He didn't want to be back there, back with Marden.

Jaskier wanted to be here, with Geralt.

"Just talk?" Geralt's voice startled Jaskier out of his churning thoughts.

"Yeah…" it had seemed to work. Right now too.

"Hmmm."

"I'm sor-" Jaskier swallowed rest of the sentence as Geralt glowered at him. He was scared the Witcher would start shouting again. Jaskier was absolutely sure he would start crying if Geralt did that, as embarrassing as it would be. Better for them both to just snap his mouth shut.

"I'll do that," Geralt seemed so determined.

Jaskier didn't know where the Witcher was finding that strength. But Geralt was exactly that. Strong. Strong in body, strong in spirit, even his good heart was strong. Jaskier absently wished he could own even sliver of that strength. Maybe then Geralt wouldn't be forced to carry them both.

_"I chose you!"_

Geralt refused to leave him.

It was strange.

So often Geralt had acted like he would like nothing more than for him to fuck off.

And now the Witcher was putting up with this hell.

Jaskier kept snapping at Geralt, infuriating him, hurting him, shoveling more and more shit on his shoulders.

Yet Geralt was still here.

Still offering his help.

_"I want to be able to help!"_

Jaskier didn't know what to do with the fact. He couldn't even trust it was a fact with the way everything kept crumbling to dust the moment he remembered how badly he was inconveniencing Geralt, shackling him down. He kept shoving even his own insecurities on the Witcher.

Geralt didn't deserve it.

Jaskier suddenly realized he was slipping into that exact spiraling guilt. If he was a braver man, he would simply ask Geralt what he had meant with his words shouted out so loud, shared with the world. Jaskier had heard him, he just couldn't make himself understand.

It was funny. Him, not being able to grasp the meaning of such simple words, and Geralt using more at once than he normally did in days.

What a pair they made. What a pair indeed.

Jaskier gave an amused huff.

It was the most incredible sound Geralt had heard in a long time.

He didn't care that Jaskier's expression wasn't joyous or even happy, it still had been an actual, if fleeting, sound of good humor. The first one in almost two weeks. Geralt had absolutely no idea what had prompted it but it didn't really matter. That was what Jaskier's voice was meant for.

It was making the fluttery feeling flare up again, filling him with warmth. He had no inclination to try wrestle it down this time, too pleased with the reason.

Jaskier was settling down again, giving a tired sigh as his head met with the pillow. At least he had been getting some rest even if it was more akin to his body simply shutting down from all the stress it was under than truly peaceful dreaming. Geralt was at the point where he would take any positive change. It was hard, and only got harder the longer it went on, to watch Jaskier constantly fight for everything, struggle with even the things that had been second nature for him.

It was a blessing Jaskier was too stubborn to give up.

Geralt really needed a way to release his pent up frustration and anger before he'd lash out at Jaskier again. There wasn't much he could do. He didn't want to leave the bard alone and their room was too small for sword practice. It had barely enough space for his stretch and strength routines. And Geralt most definitely wouldn't seek out a job just so he could go kill a monster and picture it as Marden.

Even if it did sound tempting.

Not having anything else to occupy his time, Geralt decided to go through his routines. It'd be something normal and physical activity had always been a good way to regain equilibrium with its simplicity.

Geralt couldn't help but wonder how he would arrange Roach's exercise. They would be staying here for a while and the mare couldn't stay at the stable for that long with no opportunity to stretch her legs. Geralt wouldn't let a stranger handle her but it'd also be a bad idea to let Jaskier tag along when he was sick. He was again hit by his own unwillingness to leave the bard alone even for a couple of hours. He would have to face it at some point.

It was frustrating.

Geralt continued his push ups with more vigor.

He was interrupted by a small whine escaping Jaskier. The bard was tossing around restlessly. Geralt quickly jumped up and strode to his side. Just by hovering his hand above Jaskier's forehead he could feel the fever had spiked. Not surprising with the way it had been mild so far. It'd probably start breaking soon.

"Wake up," Geralt said, taking a step back so he wasn't looming over Jaskier.

Jaskier jolted awake with a gasp bordering on a sob, looking wildly around. As his fever-bright eyes landed on Geralt's, he sat up reaching out for the Witcher.

"Geralt… Can you…? Could you… sit with me?" Jaskier's already red cheeks flushed with embarrassment and he averted his gaze. "You don't have to. Obviously. Really. You don't."

"Sure," Geralt was already circling the bed, trying to act like the request wasn't affecting him.

His heart was starting to pick up speed.

Jaskier shuffled to give Geralt more space, leaving as many inches as possible between them. The Witcher made sure his broad shoulders didn't brush against Jaskier.

Geralt could see and feel how Jaskier was slowly unwinding as silent minutes ticked by, until the bard was relaxed. It made the Witcher mirror Jaskier, surprising himself with how terribly tense he had been, prepared to get up the second Jaskier would show the slightest sign of discomfort from sharing a bed. Just because the bard had been fine with it days ago, at the very beginning when he hadn't had time or will to process anything, didn't mean it was acceptable now. Geralt didn't want another lean-to situation.

But Jaskier was content sitting close and just breath in tandem, not touching, not talking.

Geralt was also perfectly content.

It was the most peaceful moment they had had in ages

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soft, the boys continue being soft!


	32. Chapter 32

Jaskier kept drifting in and out of awareness for the rest of the day and the whole night, jolted awake by nightmares or Geralt prompting him to take care of himself. If someone were to ask him what he did during it, Jaskier wouldn't be able to give a very detailed answer. Most of it was quite jumbled, only the worst nightmares and the kindest gestures standing out.

Jaskier hoped Geralt hadn't been staying up the whole night because of him. It was bad enough that he hadn't been able to handle the Witcher staying in the bed with him for long, denying him the chance to use it. It had been so calming at first. And then it suddenly turned oppressive. Geralt had simply gotten up with no comment, or word from Jaskier, moving to sit in the single chair they had.

Jaskier wondered what Geralt had even done during the day, staying cooped in with him. He finally forced his eyes open, wanting to know if Geralt actually was still in the room.

He was.

"Morning," Jaskier was pleased his voice was more crinkling parchment than grinding stones.

"Afternoon," Geralt corrected, lifting his face from a bundle of white myrtle he had been smelling.

Jumbled. Definitely. But Jaskier also felt better rested than he had in a long time.

Things felt a little lighter.

Not good. But lighter.

It was nice.

"What are you doing?" Jaskier asked, sitting up and attempted to get a better look at the things Geralt had spread out onto the table.

"Potion."

"Thank you. That was very detailed," Jaskier said, trying and failing to stifle a cough.

"Swallow."

"Been doing it all day?"

"No."

Geralt was definitely fucking with him. But at least Jaskier now knew which one he was concocting.

"Have you filled the pitcher with your deadly Witcher juices or is it still safe for me to drink from it?"

Jaskier's legs were shaky and heavy when he got up to investigate but the room at least was slowing down its spinning the longer he stood still, leaning against the table.

"Still tea," Geralt said pushing the pitcher closer to the bard. "Should be lukewarm."

"Great," Jaskier poured himself a mug and shuffled back to bed.

His legs thanked him for sitting down.

The tea actually tasted pretty bad now that Jaskier's taste buds were starting to work again. But it was effective.

"Have you ever drank this tea yourself? Because it tastes disgusting. You could have tried to figure out how to make it better," didn't stop him from complaining. Jaskier was sure he would be drinking it a lot for a while longer. "Maybe honey?"

Geralt was looking amused. Perhaps he actually would share some of his precious honey.

"It already has honey in it."

"You can't be serious," Jaskier exclaimed aghast.

Geralt's gaze was very level.

"Add more?"

"No."

Jaskier knew a lost cause when presented one, he just usually didn't let that stop him. Right now he didn't have the energy to continue, so he'd just have to settle for terrible tasting tea. After placing his empty mug on the floor, Jaskier flopped back down to lay on the bed.

"Mind bringing my song…book…?" Jaskier started only to remember what had happened to it. It made his heart and fists clench. He really was an idiot for managing to destroy it with both fire and water.

At least it had had a poetic end.

An empty notebook and a pen were tossed on the bed next to Jaskier.

"Thanks," his voice was getting hoarse again.

He should probably stay quiet for a while. It was a much easier task nowadays, easier than chattering for hours. Jaskier didn't like it. He loved spinning words and humming improvised silly little songs. Loved filling the world with his voice and creations. Yet here he was, with no real desire to actually do those things. It left him feeling hollow.

Writing he could do silently and if the words and notes were to tangle, he could just start salvaging things from the destroyed book. With a sigh that became a cough he set out to do just that. It didn't take very long for the letters to start dancing and his handwriting get messier.

Closing the notebook, Jaskier got up and walked carefully to his shoes.

"What are you doing?" Geralt asked sharply.

"Bathroom," Jaskier was busy trying not to fall over while pulling on his boots. "Before you even think about it, you're not coming. I'm not going to collapse halfway."

Jaskier could feel Geralt's eyes judging him silently but the Witcher didn't say anything, just gave him the key after he had shrugged his doublet on.

Good. He wasn't pathetic enough to need the Witcher escort him when he was perfectly capable of walking straight.

Jaskier had almost reached the stairs to get back to their room when he noticed the barmaid who had briefly visited was heading towards him. Not slowing down, Jaskier hoped he'd be quick enough to avoid her.

He wasn't.

"Hi! It's good to see you up and about. How are you feeling?" she asked with a smile, stopping in front of him.

"Fine," Jaskier was half surprised he could answer.

"That's great! I'm Alisa," the barmaid introduced herself. "I've heard of a bard who travels with a Witcher but I never caught your name…?"

"Jaskier," he wanted to leave. Right now.

"Nice to meet you, Jaskier," Alisa said with a coy smile and deep eye contact, straightening her back more and subtly cocking her hips to rest an empty tray against one.

Shit.

Jaskier knew exactly what her body language meant.

He couldn't be less interested.

Suddenly Jaskier was very self-conscious about how he was walking around with his doublet open like always. He was frankly looking halfway to indecent. He preferred wearing it like that. Normally. Right now he wanted to quickly lace it up the proper way.

Jaskier's hands were sweating.

He was so much better at happily accepting advances than turning them down.

He felt stuck.

"I hope you'll stay long enough to be able to perform," Alisa stepped slightly closer, words turning huskier. "I'd _love_ to hear your voice."

"Thank you," Jaskier was vaguely aware his face had suddenly morphed into the charming smile and voice taking the tone he used for flirting. Except they were utterly fake. He didn't know why it even happened. Reflex?

Why couldn't he just move away? Tell her he wasn't interested?

His legs weren't working.

She moved close now, bolstered by his apparent interest. Very, very close.

"I'd love to help you with _anything_. No matter the time," she pressed herself against Jaskier to be able to whisper into his ear. "The later, the better."

Her hand rested briefly on his waist for balance, having to tiptoe to reach high enough, before she drew back.

Jaskier was completely frozen.

"Is… everything alright?" Alisa looked puzzled. "Did I do something? Came on too strong? I'm sorry if I read this wrong."

He couldn't make a sound.

"You could've just said if you're not into me," she frowned. "It's not a big deal."

It wasn't.

Jaskier just couldn't.

Do anything.

"Seriously, are you okay? You're really pale."

Jaskier bet he was.

"Are you going to faint?"

He didn't know.

She lifted a hand to gently turn his face, trying to figure out what was wrong.

Jaskier knew he didn't have imperfections on his face. Not like on his back.

Marden wouldn't be finding anything.

The king could stop inspecting him.

"Do you want me to get the Witcher?"

Geralt. Geralt. Geralt.

He wasn't here.

Was he?

"Ok, that's it. I'm going to get him. I remember your room. Just… try to breath? Not faint? Maybe you should sit down."

Room. He had a room here. With Geralt.

Jaskier suddenly remembered how to run.

Geralt was startled by the way Jaskier careened into the room, slamming the door shut behind him and continuing to a far corner where he slumped to the floor. Jaskier started to …cry? laugh?... hysterically.

It was among the worst sounds Geralt had ever heard.

"What happened?" Geralt was kneeling in front of the bard before he even realized having moved. "Jaskier?"

It took a while for Jaskier to get himself under enough control to force words out before succumbing to his hysterical laughing again. "The hell? I step out for a minute and get flirted at? Fucking…! What the fuck?!"

What the fuck, indeed. Geralt could only blink.

The laughter was interrupted when it turned into coughing.

Geralt fell into his default and retrieved tea for Jaskier. At least the bard drank it after his fit was over.

"I mean, it happens all the time," Jaskier started to lace his doublet shut. "Nothing new. People like musicians. Shouldn't be a big deal."

Geralt was surprised how talkative Jaskier was. It was hard to read if the now raspy tone was from panic or the cold. Probably both.

"She was nice about it. Waited for a response before getting actually familiar. Really straightforward though," Jaskier continued, finishing up. "Why did I flirt back? I didn't mean to. What the hell?"

Geralt still didn't know how to respond. There was a dark feeling brewing in his gut.

"She apologized too. Was about to go get you," Jaskier kept babbling very fast, tugging his sleeves to cover his wrists better. "Lovely woman. I just froze. Why? Geralt?"

"You didn't expect it?" it was the only thing Geralt could think of saying.

"True, tru-," another coughing fit interrupted Jaskier.

"Who was it?" he had to know.

"Alisa. Wait, don't you dare to do anything to her!"

Geralt had no idea what his face was showing to prompt such a response and worried expression from Jaskier.

"Who's Alisa?"

Jaskier just stared at him, eyes still as wild as when he entered, breaths too fast and hitching, not answering.

Geralt should probably try to figure out a way to calm Jaskier down instead of focusing on whoever had been making a move on him. It was hard to ignore the culprit.

"Jaskier, you're forgetting to breathe."

"Oh," Jaskier hid his face behind hands.

Geralt could hear a few stifled sobs before the bard finally managed a normal rhythm.

"Bloody hell. I fucking hate this. I fucking hate myself for not having any fucking control," Jaskier mumbled, not lifting his head.

The mug Geralt had picked up shattered as his fist clenched around it.

"Don't fucking say that! Don't you ever dare to say that again! Don't even _think_ like that!" Geralt snarled.

Jaskier cowered a bit from his tone.

Shit. No, no yelling. Calm down. Geralt didn't want to repeat the same mistake as earlier. He could rein himself in.

He had to.

Geralt took a brief moment to gather himself and subtly hide his hand sporting a few bleeding scratches from destroying the mug. He didn't want Jaskier to see them once he'd uncover his face again.

"Jaskier. You… Stop being so fucking hard on yourself," Geralt wasn't sure how to express his thoughts. "I keep telling you it's going to take some time. And you're already doing better."

Jaskier gave a derisive snort.

"It's the fucking truth, you blind idiot!"

Geralt swallowed his frustration down and continued in a calmer voice. "You're actually talking to me about what's happening, reaching out. Hell, you keep going on and pushing yourself in general. Stop setting up fucking impossible expectations and deadlines for yourself."

Jaskier jerked his head up to watch him with a look on his face that was bordering on desperate hope. Apparently he wanted to believe. Whether or not he could, Geralt didn't know. He too should remember not to set impossible expectations for Jaskier. Geralt needed to accept things would stay difficult for now. For both of them.

"You think that?" Jaskier whispered.

"I know that."

Jaskier straightened up with a small cough and headed to the bed to take his boots off before laying down again.

"I really don't have a clue where you find that faith," he mumbled quietly.

"In you. Because I know you, Jaskier," Geralt didn't even hesitate. Until the words were already out. They felt suddenly far too personal.

"Oh," there was wonder in Jaskier's wide eyes, lips slightly parted.

Even with the seriousness of the conversation they were having, Geralt couldn't help but think Jaskier looked beautiful.

And now he had no idea what to say. So he didn't say anything.

Neither did Jaskier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoo boi.


	33. Chapter 33

Jaskier didn't know when he had drifted off but suddenly he was awake again. He seemed to do that a lot. He was starting to be past the point of feeling unsettled by it. This was his life now and time was a lie.

"Please tell me it's the same day," Jaskier groaned staring at the ceiling.

"It is," Geralt answered.

"Awesome," Jaskier said with absolutely no inflection. "Hey, Geralt? When was the last time you slept? You haven't been awake this whole time, right?"

He really hoped the Witcher hadn't been staying up because of him for… Jaskier wasn't actually even sure. Far too long.

"I've been getting some sleep," Geralt sounded rather dismissive.

Some. Which translated into less than him. Jaskier wasn't pleased at all with the idea. Shuffling upright he was about to interrogate the Witcher about it more but the thought disappeared the second Jaskier spotted a scattering of fresh scratches on Geralt's right hand.

"What have you done?" Jaskier exclaimed, pointing at the wounded hand.

"Broke a mug."

"I'm serious," Jaskier huffed.

"So am I," Geralt retorted nodding towards a small neat pile of shards.

"A mug."

"It was weak."

"Wait, was that the cracking sound?" Jaskier asked, realizing there really had been one. He had been too deep in his head to pay real attention to it.

"Hmmm."

Jaskier gave a sigh, ruffling his hair. It was again bothering him with the unfamiliar length. "You need to pay for it."

"Actually, could we… go get dinner?" Jaskier asked hesitantly. He was vaguely hungry and tired of staying in the room. He also had absolutely no inclination to exit it without Geralt after what happened.

Geralt scrutinized him for a moment before agreeing, taking the shards with him.

Jaskier wanted to grab hold of Geralt's shirt as he followed behind the Witcher. It was such a childish urge but every step was making him more nervous. Jaskier was starting to forget why he had thought this would be a good idea with the way his anxiety was starting to churn.

"You really like breaking things, don't you?"

Jaskier hadn't realized Alisa was manning the bar before he heard her exasperated voice since he had walked almost glued to Geralt's back. Peeking his head out, Jaskier could see an actual dent on the counter next to the shards. Based on her words, he was hiding behind the cause of it.

"Oh, hi Jaskier. I'm so sorry about the earlier," Alisa said sincerely, noticing the bard. "You know what, forget about the mug. It's fine."

Jaskier couldn't find his words, but he did quickly jab Geralt's side before the Witcher could growl something at Alisa. It hadn't been her fault.

"I guess you want dinner?" she continued, radiating guilt.

Geralt did growl at her but at least it was a vague agreement instead of venomous curses. He slammed the coins on the counter with excessive force, making Alisa wince.

Jaskier could see new marks on the polished wood when she took the money.

"I'll bring them to you soon," she told, heading to the kitchen. "Drinks are on me."

That explained the few coins she had left behind.

"That was her?" Geralt asked angrily as they sat down in a corner table, glaring at the bar.

"...Yeah…" Jaskier still had hard time getting words out but it was getting easier. "That's her. Be nice."

Geralt's grumble made clear he had no such plans.

Just as expected.

Alisa did receive such a murderous glower from Geralt when she brought their order that it made her flinch and walk away very, very, fast.

Jaskier knew he had been the one to suggest getting something to eat but now it was again starting to turn into a struggle. But it tasted good. And he was able to mostly ignore the other customers instead of trying to track every little movement.

"Yes?" Jaskier prompted Geralt. The Witcher was looking at him with the frown meaning he had something to say but was finding it difficult to voice.

"I need to go take Roach for a ride," Geralt said slowly.

The idea of Geralt leaving was making his pulse pick up and fingers drum the table.

"Of course," Jaskier agreed. The mare really needed to get some exercise.

"It'll take an hour or two," Geralt continued, studying him.

"Of course."

"I can't take you along."

"Of course," Jaskier felt like he was stuck in a loop with the way he couldn't change his wording.

"Jaskier," Geralt's tone was a warning that he better not be mindlessly agreeing.

"Of course, she has to stretch her legs," new words, he could add new words. Jaskier hoped he sounded as sincere as he really was. "She's been standing in the stable for too long."

"I'll be fine," that one tasted like ash and lies.

Jaskier would just have to turn it into the truth.

"Will you?" Geralt challenged him.

"Yeah."

"And if you're not?"

Jaskier could only shrug. Then he wouldn't. Not much to be done about it.

"I'll just try to sleep little more or something," he said, not meeting the Witcher's eyes.

"Don't do anything stupid," Geralt ordered, getting up. "I mean it."

Jaskier followed Geralt's lead, letting himself be escorted to the base of the stairs before they parted ways. Jaskier was halfway up before he changed his mind and turned around, heading to the bar.

"Do you have a bath that's free?" Jaskier asked Alisa. He couldn't make his voice much stronger than a whisper, patting his pockets for coin.

She seemed to do some mental calculations before answering. "Yeah, it's unoccupied at the moment. You want to take one?"

Jaskier managed only a wordless nod.

"I'll ask it to be filled. Should be ready for you in a couple of minutes. There's towels and soap for use."

Standing in front of the door leading to the bath, Jaskier wondered if this counted as anything stupid Geralt had warned him not to do.

It probably did, with the way his heart was hammering.

Jaskier's hand trembled as he opened the door.

It was only a bath. He was being ridiculous.

He walked in.

It was, indeed, just a small generic room with a gently steaming tub. No one else here than him. Jaskier took a couple of steps before he suddenly couldn't take another, not forward, not backwards. He was close enough to touch the wood of the bathtub.

Jaskier couldn't undress.

_"I didn't take you for the modest type. You did offer to undress yesterday."_

He couldn't even lift his hands to- _"Let's make you more comfortable."_ -unfasten his tightly laced doublet.

_Then he was spluttering as the king poured water over his head without a warning._

Jaskier dunked his head into the tub, hoping actual water would chase away the memory.

It didn't.

It made it worse.

There was now a real sensation of water running down his head and hair sticking to his scalp as he resurfaced.

Jaskier's legs couldn't hold him up anymore and he crumpled to the floor, leaning against the bathtub.

No, no, no, no, no. Why didn't he listen to Geralt?

What the fuck was he doing here?

He wanted to leave, go back to their room.

Jaskier couldn't get up with the way he was shaking all over, chest cold and heavy with fear, fingers numb and tingling. It felt like he was drowning, no air and pressure crushing him from all directions.

He continued his descent and curled on the floor.

He needed to get away from here.

He couldn't move. He couldn't make a sound. He couldn't even breathe.

He could hear Marden's clothes rustle.

There were fingers ghosting over the scars on his back.

Jaskier was quite sure this was how he'd die.

He kept being strangled.

He kept drowning in his own tears.

There was knocking on the door. "Hey, get out. There's another customer waiting."

Jaskier didn't recognize the voice.

But it was jarring enough to return some awareness to him.

He couldn't answer and the knocking repeated.

"Hurry up. We aren't a spa."

Jaskier managed to get his legs under himself and stagger up. There still wasn't oxygen in the air. Someone else was taking the needed steps to reach the door, moving the latch keeping it locked. Next thing Jaskier knew was closing the door to their room behind himself.

Geralt wasn't back yet.

Jaskier needed him.

His lungs weren't working. They just kept wheezing on empty air and coughing it out.

Jaskier hoped Geralt would arrive soon.

Jaskier didn't want Geralt to see him like this.

He would only worry.

Geralt did that too much already.

Jaskier pressed his palms hard against his forehead, trying to fight against his violent reaction. Just one breath. If he could take even one controlled breath. Then another would follow. And another. And another.

Taking the first one was harder than thinking about it. But eventually Jaskier managed it. Bolstered by having some air again, Jaskier dragged himself up onto the bed and buried himself under the covers.

The moment Geralt stepped into their room he knew something was wrong.

There was a smell of terror in the air and Jaskier was completely invisible under the blanket, having pulled it even over his head. Geralt felt like punching the wall in frustration. It seemed like every single fucking time he averted his gaze from Jaskier, something would go to hell.

He seriously didn't know what to do about it.

It was impossible not to separate from time to time.

"Jaskier?"

There was no answer, only a slight shudder.

"Jaskier?" Geralt walked slowly with heavier steps than necessary to squat next to the bard. "What happened?"

A hand shot from under the blanket and blindly tangled into Geralt's shirt, surprising him.

"Jaskier, talk to me," Geralt did his best to keep his voice level. He wanted to hold the shaking hand clinging to him.

"...Moron…"

Geralt wasn't sure if he had heard right. "What?"

"...Was a moron…" Jaskier's mumble was slightly clearer this time.

"What did you do?" he couldn't curb all the bite from his voice. He had _told_ Jaskier not to do anything stupid.

"...Bath…"

It took Geralt a second to puzzle out the meaning.

"Why the hell did you do that, Jaskier?" Geralt knew he sounded resigned. He just couldn't understand the bard.

"...Wanted one."

"That's it? You wanted a fucking bath so you thought it'd be a good idea? When the last time Marden was with you, touching, watching? When you already had had a panic attack only hours ago?"

Didn't Jaskier have any impulse control or self-preservation instincts…? Geralt already knew the answer to that.

Jaskier gave only a raspy sob.

"Do you want to hold my hand?" it was the only thing Geralt could think of offering. It had worked previously. And if he had to be honest, it'd make him too feel better.

Jaskier pulled the blanket back just enough to reveal puffy eyes. His voice was tremulous and incredibly vulnerable. "...Can I…?"

"Yes."

Jaskier shifted to make it easier for them to lock hands, revealing his whole face at the same time. He seemed to be holding back tears. His grip was desperate.

"...Thank you…" it was more akin to air passing Jaskier's lips than a whisper.

"Anytime," it was the absolute truth. Geralt hoped the bard would be able to hear and believe it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier... ;w;
> 
> With this I'll leave you for the weekend. Next update will be on Monday! ❤️


	34. Chapter 34

Geralt wondered if they should lay down some ground rules to avoid repeating things like this. Jaskier was completely clueless about what he could safely do and what would only hurt him.

Staying this codependent wasn't healthy.

For either of them.

Geralt was apprehensive of bringing it up it and causing Jaskier to think he didn't trust him. But he didn't, not with Jaskier's own well being. The bard was far too dismissive of himself and his own limits and needs. It made him worried Jaskier truly had meant what he had said about hating himself, instead of it being only a heat of the moment thing.

However, Geralt was aware that continuing to spend every minute with Jaskier would start driving him up the walls. Having a couple of hours to himself riding Roach had been freeing, even with the undercurrent of worry. He needed it. Badly.

He didn't want to grow resentful.

He would eventually if things continued like this.

Geralt knew he didn't have the right temperament to avoid it.

They had to figure something out. Geralt wanted to keep helping, he'd do almost anything to see Jaskier heal. He wouldn't be able to do it if he was constantly filled with aimless anger and frustration. He would only start lashing out more and more.

Hopefully Jaskier would be amiable to the idea. But Geralt wouldn't bring the topic up today. The bard had been through enough for now.

Besides, it was getting late.

Jaskier was still in bed after relinquishing Geralt's hand, resting but not sleeping. His fever had spiked again.

The idiot, exerting himself right when it had been almost gone.

At least his wound had looked good in the morning. It was healing well now that it was being treated properly. Geralt reluctantly admitted it'd be fine to leave alone and treat it the first thing in the morning. It'd probably end up being more traumatizing than helpful if he did it now. And Jaskier would only do haphazard job that'd be useless.

With a sigh Geralt unfurled a bedroll on the floor and laid down. He needed some real sleep instead of meditation and light dozing. The bard would definitely have bad nightmares after such a day but Geralt couldn't deny his body the rest it needed any longer. He would wake if they turned violent enough to cause noise or overt tossing.

Jaskier knew Geralt was utterly disappointed in him.

As he should. Trying to take a bath had been an idiotic decision. Deep down Jaskier had known it from the start. He just… tried to prove to himself that he still could.

Obviously he had been wrong.

Such a simple thing to do.

Yet he didn't manage it.

There had to be something broken in him, no matter what Geralt kept saying. This wasn't normal. He wasn't normal. Jaskier knew people didn't break down from little flirting, and definitely not from going near a bathtub.

A fucking _bathtub_.

Jaskier guessed he'd just either have to be absolutely filthy or stay near natural bodies of water for the rest of his life.

Geralt was settling down for the night. It was good to know the Witcher was planning on getting some real sleep if rolling out a bedroll was anything to go by. Didn't stop Jaskier from feeling tremendously guilty for claiming the bed and being unable to share. He would propose taking turns but he knew Geralt would absolutely refuse to use it. Jaskier wished they had enough money for a two bed room. Then Geralt could sleep comfortably, regardless of his own stupid hang-ups.

Jaskier decided to pretend the tight feeling in his throat was caused by the cold, not from having to swallow tears.

It was easier like that.

Geralt had fallen asleep. It was calming to listen to his strong and slow breathing. It was a steady rhythm. Only downside was that it was making him too sleepy. Jaskier was afraid of having nightmares if he'd let his eyes close. He didn't want to experience them and he most definitely didn't want to disturb Geralt with them. The Witcher would wake from the first distressed sound that would escape.

Geralt needed rest more than him. It had been practically all Jaskier had been doing lately.

Dozing and crying. What a wonderful life. Absolutely charming.

It was getting harder to resist closing his eyes. Jaskier cursed the fact that the one time he wanted to stay awake, he was falling asleep.

Jaskier woke up with a strangled shriek and promptly fell off the bed. He wanted to crawl under it for safety but before he could, Geralt was kneeling by his side.

Geralt was safer.

Geralt would do his best not to let Marden touch him.

Without thinking Jaskier turned around and latched on the Witcher's arm, practically hanging from it.

"Jaskier, it was a nightmare. You're safe," Geralt's voice was soft. "Just a dream. There's no threat."

Jaskier really, really, wanted to believe it. He couldn't. Not yet. There were invisible hands on him. Chest pressing against his. Rivulets of water running down his face.

"You're safe, Jaskier. Completely safe," Geralt continued. "It wasn't real. Nothing is going to happen to you. I won't let it. And it was just a nightmare."

Geralt's deep, familiar voice was finally starting to get through the haze of panic enveloping Jaskier. He really was with Geralt at the inn. Hadn't been with Marden for almost two weeks. Had gotten away before the king could fulfill his unsaid intentions.

Geralt was here.

Geralt was safety.

Jaskier wasn't able to loosen his death grip on the Witcher's arm, afraid Geralt would disappear, but his breathing was returning to normal. At least normal for crying.

"Ge-Geralt…" He should ask if this was fine with the Witcher. Should have done it before touching him at all. He hadn't meant to do it without permission. "C-can I…? ...This?"

"Yes," Geralt seemed to understand the disjointed question.

"Can I put my arm around your shoulders?" Geralt asked in turn, still speaking soothingly.

"No, no, no," Jaskier sobbed.

He couldn't- He couldn't be held. He had to be able to get away. He needed to be able to escape.

"I won't. It's okay Jaskier," Geralt whispered. "I won't do anything you don't want. I promise."

Jaskier couldn't do more than nod and continue crying.

He didn't know how long it took before all of his tears were exhausted. Jaskier still couldn't let go of Geralt. The Witcher didn't seem to mind, hadn't tried to even get him to loosen his grip.

He didn't deserve Geralt and his kindness.

Jaskier stole a few minutes more of comfort before he reluctantly let go and leaned back.

"Sorry," Jaskier said quietly. He hadn't meant to disrupt Geralt's sleep. The Witcher had a sour expression on his face as Jaskier briefly glanced at him.

Right. Geralt had made clear he was done accepting apologies.

Jaskier didn't blame him.

Geralt would be happy if he never again had to wake up due a scream from Jaskier. Hearing, seeing, the bard so utterly terrified by the images his own mind created hurt.

More than he could put in words.

Jaskier's unnecessary insistence for apologizing didn't help either. The bard should start to be able to figure out there was no reason for him to do so. There was nothing to forgive. None of this was his fault. Geralt kept telling him that.

Jaskier had settled down again, clutching his blanket like a shield and curled underneath it. He looked absolutely exhausted but kept staring blankly at the wall, refusing to close his eyes. Uncharitable thought, but sometimes Geralt felt like he was suddenly traveling with a child with the way Jaskier avoided going to sleep.

"Jaskier, go to sleep," Geralt sighed. "You know it's safe to do so."

"Mmmm."

"Go to sleep so I can do the same," Geralt knew Jaskier kept worrying about him, the idiot. But he wasn't above using the fact. Not when it worked.

Jaskier gave a wordless complaint but did finally close his eyes, trying to relax. It'd have to be enough.

"Good night," Geralt said, moving back to his bedroll to lay down. He'd have liked to keep sitting with Jaskier, ready to help chase nightmares away, but bribery only worked if he'd hold his end of the deal.

And he really did need few more hours of sleep.

Come morning, Geralt had more or less gotten his wish for those hours. It might not have been uninterrupted but the time itself had been sufficient. Jaskier seemed to be still asleep so he got quietly up and started on his routines, careful not to disturb the bard.

Geralt had been finished for a while before bleary blue eyes turned to look at him.

"How are you feeling?" Geralt asked, already walking towards the bed.

"Uhhh," came Jaskier's detailed answer.

"I need to check your fever. And treat the wound," Geralt stated, forgetting to phrase it as a question.

"...Sure," the bard sighed, sitting up to lean against the headboard.

Jaskier's skin was still feverish but it had gone down again. If the bard would just refrain from exerting himself, it should be gone by tomorrow. It was a relief.

Geralt was taken by surprise as Jaskier started to unlace his rumpled doublet with shaking hands but without prompting.

It was the first time Jaskier was doing anything to remove even a single garment, boots not counting, completely voluntarily in front of him. It was slow going but Geralt didn't dare to draw any attention to the act. Jaskier halted with a shuddery breath just before he was about to tug his chemise out from his waistband. Geralt stayed completely silent until Jaskier lifted it up even if it ended up taking longer than a minute.

"I'll unwind the bandage now," narrating still felt like the best option, letting Jaskier have a warning before Geralt did anything involving touching him.

"Yeah…" Jaskier muttered while avoiding eye contact.

It was good to see the cut was showing no signs of infection and continued to heal well. Geralt was quite sure it was past the phase of possible complications. While Jaskier was still tense as a steel rod and shivering, the borderline panic had greatly diminished. It made Geralt want to sigh in relief and gratefulness. He had been worried yesterday would have caused lasting damage.

It was unbelievable how Jaskier couldn't see his own progress.

"I'll get us breakfast and water for the tea," Geralt said studying Jaskier's face as the bard redressed.

"Uh-huh."

"I'll be quick."

Geralt was as good as his word, returning soon enough. Being separated from him was still making Jaskier feel anxious but at least it had stayed within manageable levels this time. He didn't trust it'd stay like that. But Jaskier wasn't feeling quite as hopeless as he had yesterday and during the night. Getting a little rest had helped.

He might be a massive fool but that wasn't anything new or shocking.

And washing basins existed. He could just use those.

Jaskier was brought out of his thoughts by Geralt offering him a mug of tea.

"Jaskier, we need to talk," Geralt said, moving the chair so he could face the bard while sitting on it.

That sounded foreboding. Geralt wanting to start an actual conversation.

"We do?" Jaskier had an inkling what the topic would be about.

"Yes. We have to figure out a way for you to prevent things like yesterday. Or lessen the chance," Geralt was looking absolutely serious and focused. "Those panic attacks had clear reasons."

"So I avoid baths and run when someone tries to flirt?" Jaskier knew he was sounding defensive without meaning to. He was nervous.

"I doubt it's that simple. There's a lot that causes you anxiety, isn't there?" Geralt was staring at Jaskier intently.

It made Jaskier hunch into himself. He was aware of being pathetic without Geralt pointing things out. Everything made him anxious. Except Geralt. And Roach.

"Yeah," Jaskier admitted. Geralt knew it already.

"What's the worst?"

So Geralt really was going to make this happen. Jaskier would have been happy to drop the subject. He didn't want Geralt to know just how messed up he truly was. The Witcher surely would want to hear the whole list. And it'd just go on and on.

"Jaskier?"

"Do I have to?" Jaskier couldn't help but ask.

"Yes."

"...Touch…" it was obvious.

"Why?" Geralt sought eye contact.

"Fuck off Geralt! You know why," Jaskier snarled, trying to draw blood with words. He was gripped by sudden need to defend himself. "You don't need me to spell it out. I'm not doing this. Go get your fucking entertainment somewhere else!"

"What the fuck?! Do you think I enjoy watching your pain?" Geralt's tone more than matched his. "Do you really think I ask for the joy of hearing sordid details to revel in?!"

No. That wasn't who Geralt was.

"I'm trying to help, you bastard!"

Jaskier couldn't stop himself from drawing his knees up as a physical barrier between them since words hadn't worked. He forced himself to take a few slow breaths. "...I know…"

"Good," Geralt too was trying to calm down. "You need to figure out the reasons why it scares you. We already know the cause."

"There's a difference?" Jaskier wasn't sure what Geralt meant.

"Yes. We know it's Marden's fault. But what do you think is going to happen to you when someone touches you now?"

"I don't know…" Jaskier hadn't thought of that. He just knew it was horrible, terrifying, and he didn't want it. He trusted only Geralt to do so.

"...I don't know…" he buried his face behind his knees. "...I don't know… …I don't know…"

"Jaskier, Jaskier, it's fine. You don't have to have an answer now," Geralt sounded so understanding. "We can continue later. But think about it."

Jaskier wasn't able to give any kind of an answer.

He just didn't know.

It was getting hard to think.

"Jaskier, can I hol-"

"No!" Jaskier cried out, far louder than he meant to. His voice was shaking and he curled around his knees even tighter. "No. Don't. Not now. No."

"I won't."

To Jaskier those two words had turned into a marvel somewhere along the way. It kept surprising him that he could refuse contact and have it respected. He still expected having no say about it. To just having to endure.

It was strange to have that sliver of control.

It was a miracle.

He was afraid it'd be taken away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A for effort but not for execution, Geralt. 
> 
> It also really sucks when yesterday's mood follows you to the next day.


	35. Chapter 35

That could have gone better.

In hindsight, Geralt was sure he shouldn't have led with the biggest problem. Should have started with less serious and worked up from there with Jaskier. Instead he had let his straightforward thinking take over and tried to address the underlying issue affecting everything.

Geralt hated that he still kept accidentally bringing Jaskier to the point of panic attacks with his actions. The bard wasn't the only one who needed to re-evaluate their behavior.

But Jaskier was getting better at calming himself down from them. They left him withdrawn and tired but weren't as devastating as in the beginning. Some of the time. Geralt was pleased that Jaskier was currently at least pretending to work on his craft even if the pace of his pen and unfocused eyes belied the fact that he was mostly lost in his own head.

It still was showing returning interest.

Jaskier without music was even worse than him being quiet.

If there only was a way to make Jaskier see himself as Geralt did. It was clear the bard was unable to recognize his own resilience or strength. Sometimes seemed to even regard himself as something like a burden or damaged goods. Completely blind to the truth.

Jaskier was astounding.

He kept rebuilding himself piece by piece and step by step even when he had to fight for everything. Refusing to give up or stay still. The bard might not know how to go about it but he didn't let it keep him down, not for good.

Geralt wanted to kiss him senseless.

The dagger Geralt was sharpening nicked his finger, startling a hiss. He couldn't remember the last time he had cut himself with his own weapons.

"Geralt?" Jaskier turned his head to look at him. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Geralt wasn't going to tell the bard he had been so distracted thinking about his lips that he lost control. Absolutely not.

"Aren't you a wolf, not a cat?"

"What," Geralt said so flatly it couldn't be considered a question anymore.

"Hissing. That's what cats do," Jaskier answered, tilting his head. "Trying to become one since they don't let you pet them?"

"It's a mutual feeling," Geralt defended himself. "I don't even like them."

"Right. It must have been some other Witcher I've spotted trying to get cats come to him," Jaskier nodded with exaggerated seriousness.

"Go to hell Jaskier," there was no heat in Geralt's voice.

"Already there."

Geralt whipped around to stare Jaskier straight in the eye. They were incredibly wide and showing desire to run.

"...I didn't mean to say that…" Jaskier forced out, clutching his pen so hard Geralt was sure it'd snap any second.

"Jaskier."

"Just a joke. Didn't mean it," the bard continued, looking paler and paler. "Really."

"Jaskier."

"Forget it. It was nothing. Absolutely nothing."

"Jaskier!" that finally made the bard snap his mouth shut and focus on Geralt.

"Don't pretend you didn't mean it, at least partially," Geralt said, placing the dagger down and standing up. Gesturing at the bed he continued. "Can I sit?"

After a nod of acquiescence Geralt sat on the edge, facing Jaskier. The bard was still looking like he'd like to be anywhere but here. Geralt didn't know what he meant to say now that he had Jaskier's attention.

"That's… not good."

"No shit, Geralt?" Jaskier scoffed.

That was deserved.

"Talk to me. Tell me what's going on," Geralt tried to force as much sincerity into his voice as he possibly could. "I want to help. I can't if I don't know what you need."

"Unless you have a spell to turn back time, I don't know," Jaskier turned his face away. "If I did, I'd already be doing it."

"Jaskier, what makes you feel safe?" Geralt wondered if he should have started the previous conversation with this instead of going after the problems.

"...You…" it took a minute to Jaskier to answer. There was a faint blush accompanying the admission.

While Geralt had guessed it, the words still stole his breath away.

"Why?"

"Geralt… Why do you ask?" Jaskier's voice was a couple of octaves higher than normal.

"Maybe it's possible to expand it to other things," Geralt answered, slightly thrown by Jaskier's reaction.

"Oh. Oh. Yeah," Jaskier sighed. "That… that makes sense. It's, I know you. I trust you. You wouldn't hurt me."

"...Not on purpose," Jaskier added after a brief pause.

The remainder made Geralt's heart pang painfully.

"But it's not possible to make the world like that so I don't know how it's going to help," there was an undercurrent of defeat in Jaskier's tone.

Unacceptable.

Yesterday had hit the bard hard after all then.

"Maybe you can't control the world but I can help you get used to it again," Geralt was determined to be Jaskier's shield if that was what the bard needed. It wouldn't be a lasting solution but it'd help getting there.

"And how are you going to do that?"

"Being right there by your side when you face things. Help you manage your anxiety. Make sure you don't push yourself so hard that you hurt yourself," Geralt wanted to do those things. Wanted to lend strength to Jaskier, be something he could lean on until he could do it by himself again.

"Geralt, it's okay. You don't have to do that. Really," Jaskier murmured. "Please don't abandon your life just for an attempt to help me. It's not worth it. I'm not worth it."

For a second Geralt saw red.

"You-" he caught himself growling and managed to soften his tone to something at least bordering on acceptable. "Are worth so much more than that. There's no fucking price tag on you. I'm not exchanging, or, I don't fucking know, paying, to or with anything to help you."

"Jaskier, listen to me. Hear me. Really hear me. I'm here with you because that's what I want. I chose you. I want to help. I want to see you get better. I know you only need time. You're already moving forward. Do you understand me?" Geralt didn't know how to make it more clear than that.

Maybe it'd work now that he wasn't yelling it right after a flashback.

"You chose me?" Jaskier asked with a brittle voice full of hope.

"Yes. I chose you," Geralt repeated, wanting to make sure Jaskier would finally realize that he wouldn't be abandoning him. Not for anything.

"I'm not leaving. I don't care if you try to push me away. I don't care how long it'll take you to be able to function independently. I don't care if you never will be the same."

"I. Don't. Care. I chose you. I'll keep choosing you."

Jaskier started to cry.

It wasn't restrained, it wasn't pretty, the bard was bawling his heart out but Geralt could tell it was from utter relief this time. Jaskier shuffled so that he was kneeling in front of Geralt only a hair's breadth away from touching.

"C-ca-can I h-h-hu-hug y-y-you?" Jaskier managed to ask in between sobs, words almost incomprehensible.

"Yes, yes, Jaskier," Geralt breathed out in wonder. "You can. Always."

Then there were arms desperately clinging to him, chest pressing against his so tightly Geralt could feel each frantic heartbeat, hot tears dampening his shirt as Jaskier buried his face into the crook of his neck.

"D-don't- don't hold me," Jaskier mumbled before Geralt could even think of doing that.

"I won't," Geralt promised. This was more than enough.

It felt like he had been waiting for this his whole life.

It felt like everything was well this moment.

It wasn't. Not by a long shot.

But he was suddenly bursting with love and affection.

Geralt didn't know what to do with it.

He had never felt like this.

And he had been alive for a long time.

Jaskier was showing him such an incredible amount of trust, placing himself right where it would be the easiest to restrain him. He wouldn't have time to get away if Geralt decided to hold him. Jaskier would be completely trapped with no chance of freeing himself, no matter how hard he'd fight.

Yet there he was.

The bard didn't stay long before backing up, still crying, and asking for permission to hold hands. Jaskier appeared to be absolutely desperate for physical comfort, yet unable to stand it for long.

Geralt tried to offer every little bit of it Jaskier could possibly take.

Geralt wanted to scoop Jaskier into his arms and not let go so he'd stay safe. He never would do it. Not without explicit consent. Preferably repeated a few times. But the urge was there.

He didn't want anything be able to harm Jaskier ever again.

Jaskier had had to retreat to where Geralt's arms couldn't reach him long before his tears dried.

Geralt wasn't going to leave him.

Not even if he never could piece himself back together.

He didn't understand.

But Jaskier did truly believe Geralt.

Finally.

Maybe he wasn't too heavy of a burden. Just a hefty sack of stones but not a boulder immobilizing the Witcher under its weight.

Jaskier couldn't stop looking at Geralt. The Witcher wasn't doing anything even remotely interesting but it felt like Geralt had a personal field of gravity and he was trapped in it. A trap Jaskier was content to stay in. He could watch Geralt for hours, try to memorize even the smallest of features as long as he wasn't asked to stop. Jaskier didn't want to make Geralt uncomfortable with his adoration. Even the mere idea of giving unwanted attention made him feel ill. Jaskier closed his eyes to wrestle the feeling down.

Geralt didn't seem bothered at all.

It was fine.

"Feeling up to going down to eat or want me to bring it here?" Geralt asked already heading to the door.

Jaskier was grateful Geralt kept asking for his opinion. There was something strangely comforting about having options even if it was just where to eat or some other mundane thing.

Maybe it was the control, ability to choose what would happen.

There was a black void in his life where that should be.

"Let's go," Jaskier decided, going to pull his boots on.

This time he made it down the stairs before he was hit by a wave of anxiety, making him suddenly freeze. There was a sizable crowd of customers enjoying lunch. It was noisy and people were walking around. Jaskier was worried someone would accidentally brush against him. He could almost feel it.

"Do you want to turn around?" Geralt murmured quietly.

Choice. He had a choice. It'd be his call.

"...No…" Jaskier knew he didn't sound very convincing. But he did want to at least try. "Just… Stay close? Your… Witcherness… should give us more space."

It did.

Also drew stares.

Jaskier could feel how his chest was getting tighter but he tried to keep focusing on Geralt and breathing. It was alright. They had always drawn looks since the very beginning. This was nothing new. It was unnerving getting that much attention just by walking through a room. Jaskier still wanted to hang on to Geralt's shirt. He didn't this time either. It would only gather even more stares.

It was disappointing that Alisa wasn't on shift. Jaskier was relatively sure he could have handled the transaction if it had been her. Maybe. Possibly. Hopefully. As it was, he let Geralt do it again.

Jaskier could still feel the curious eyes when they had taken over a table as close to a corner as possible, making it impossible to do much more than pick at his food. It was disheartening how much a little unwanted attention given from the distance was affecting him.

The first time he overheard a comment about them he almost choked on a piece of turnip, alarming Geralt.

It just went downhill from there.

Jaskier couldn't stay still. His leg kept bouncing and fingers drumming a staccato against the table. Every look he garnered felt like a threat. He wanted to run. Or disappear. Anything to not be here. Jaskier was startled out of his head as Geralt suddenly herded him back to their room. The Witcher seemed to be making good on his promise to keep an eye on him and try to make sure he didn't push too hard.

"Thank you," Jaskier absently said, hearing the siren song of the soft bed. "I really don't realize when something is becoming too much until it has already happened, do I?"

"You will."

There Geralt went again with his unshakable trust.

Maybe it was good at least one of them had it.

"Is it okay if I sleep for a while?" Jaskier asked as he already had gotten under the covers.

"You're still sick," Geralt said, clearly agreeing.

"Almost cured."

"That means sick."

"I'm serious, Geralt. I think I don't even have a fever anymore," Jaskier pointed out. "You can slap your hand on my forehead if you don't believe me."

Geralt did exactly that, carefully.

And gave a pleased hum as he agreed with Jaskier's diagnosis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Geralt uses words. IT'S SUPER EFFECTIVE!!!


	36. Chapter 36

It was again afternoon when Jaskier woke up, stretching and not willing to get up yet. Sleep seemed to be starting to finally do what it was supposed to, even if it stayed restless and dreams unpleasant. It didn't bother him quite as much at the moment since he felt actually almost rested. A novelty.

"What are you doing?" Jaskier wasn't sure if Geralt was meditating or fallen asleep from pure boredom. There wasn't much for the Witcher to do, cooped in as he was, so both were equally possible.

"Meditating," Geralt said, opening his eyes. "How do you feel?"

"Better," Jaskier was pleased it was the truth. "Rested."

"Good. Jaskier, do you think you'll be able to stay alone for a while?" Geralt sounded almost hesitant. "Roach needs to run."

"And you need to get away, right?" Jaskier guessed.

"I'm not lea-"

"For a bit! I meant for a little while," Jaskier interrupted Geralt's frustrated answer. "I believe you're not going to suddenly abandon me. I do. Truly."

"It's just… You're with me constantly. And I'm not easy to be around. No, let me finish," Jaskier chided noticing the Witcher opening his mouth. "I'm absolutely a fucking mess, no use denying it. And you keep trying your best to make sure I don't completely fall apart. It's not easy on you."

"I worry about you, Geralt. You know I do, you use it as a leverage. Very sneaky of you by the way. But the thing is, I'd rather suffer a couple of hours of worsened anxiety each day than let you run yourself into the ground."

"I can survive anxiety. What I can't, is you hurting yourself along the way by trying to shelter me from everything. Go run free, let your hair fly in the wind, and forget about me," Jaskier tried to make Geralt understand why he wanted the Witcher to go away for a bit, even if it was the last thing he actually wished for.

He wasn't sure how the idea would be received. Geralt was always so worried about leaving him alone even for a minute.

Jaskier had to admit it was fair given his track record.

He hadn't faired well at all by himself so far.

But Jaskier didn't want Geralt to force himself to stay with him nonstop for the unforeseeable future.

It wasn't fair. And would only drive the Witcher up the walls.

Suddenly his voice cracked and Jaskier was unable to continue. He tried to clear it to no avail. The tea Geralt yet again shoved into his hands helped, even if he still sounded rather croaky after downing it. He really was out of practice with continuous talking. Although, the last of the lingering cold probably wasn't helping.

It'd take some intensive practice to get his singing back to top notch condition.

"Are you sure?" Geralt checked yet again before leaving.

It would have been cute how he was so concerned if the situation was different.

"Yes. Shoo," Jaskier flapped his hand dismissively. "Say hi to Roach for me."

It took maybe five minutes before Jaskier was pacing the room restlessly. He probably should have planned what he'd do in advance.

Only thing Jaskier knew for sure was that he was not going out unless there was an emergency. No thank you, that was a recipe for a panic attack if the past was anything to go by. Even he wasn't that much of a fool to keep repeating the same mistake over and over again. The inn would have to be on fire or someone informing him something had happened to Geralt before he would step out of that door.

Now he worried that something really had happened to Geralt.

Jaskier stopped by his lute case. Hoisting it up, he carried it to the bed with him before opening the case. His lute was looking just as flawless as it had been when he placed it there.

Jaskier ran his fingers over the familiar wood, letting his fingertips coax the slightest sounds from the strings as he strummed once.

It sounded like home.

Jaskier lifted it gently to his lap, plucking the strings for a while as carefully as he could. Lutes weren't made to be quiet instruments, perfect for making the music heard even in boisterous taverns, but it'd be breach of etiquette if he started to actually play here and now. The sound would carry and disturb people. Somehow not being allowed to do so made him earnestly yearn for it.

At least his fingertips weren't as painful against the strings as last time.

As if summoned by the observation, Jaskier was hit by the urge to bite them in a futile attempt to curb his anxiety. He wouldn't, he wouldn't, he wouldn't. The lute was placed back in its case with care and returned to where it had been.

Snatching his songbook from the floor where it had dropped, Jaskier headed to the small table. It'd be easier to write against it.

His leg started to bounce and he clutched his left knee to keep his nails far away from his teeth while twirling the pen in the other hand.

_"I am but a weeping willow bending before you / As you move like a tempest through time,"_ Jaskier quietly recited to himself, trying the lyrics out loud before writing them down. That was all he could manage for the ballad. He couldn't focus.

Jaskier laid down on the floor to watch the ceiling. He had absolutely no fucking idea what he thought it would achieve.

Nothing. That was the answer.

He got up to go over the small snippet of the lyrics he had written again. They were still acceptable so he didn't cross them out. Jaskier did doodle a willow and Geralt riding Roach in the upper corner. Geralt's head didn't fit on the paper.

Hopefully a headless Geralt wasn't an omen.

Jaskier caught himself just before he could bite a nail. He turned the movement into ruffling his hair instead and moved to his saddlebag full of clothes. He should go over them and see if something needed care.

One of the doublets did catch his eye. It was too close to lilac.

Jaskier took it with him as he moved to another bag, fishing the scissors out. Sitting down on the floor he started to gleefully cut and rip the offending garment into shreds.

Fuck Marden and the lilac clothes he had been forced to wear.

It was satisfying to watch how the silk was turning into ribbons.

Jaskier couldn't care less that he had saved for months to be able to afford the doublet he was destroying.

Geralt was relieved it had been Jaskier in the end who had brought the separation issue up. He was sure he would have tangled the words into something offensive and hurt Jaskier. He was good at that. This was definitely the best it could have gone. It was a nice change of pace to have a conversation that didn't devolve into a catastrophe at the first attempt. Giving the last pats on Roach's neck and wishing her a good evening and night, Geralt headed back to their room.

He fervently hoped Jaskier would be alright.

Fishing out his key, Geralt could hear strange ripping sounds he couldn't place coming from the inside. Bursting into the room, he saw Jaskier sitting legs criss-crossed on the floor, surrounded by pieces of expensive silk and wielding scissors.

"Oh, hi Geralt," Jaskier greeted, briefly glancing at the Witcher before focusing on his task again.

"What the hell are you doing?" Geralt moved to kneel in front of the bard, trying to get a good look at his face.

"Isn't it obvious?" Jaskier's eyes were too bright and hands shaking.

"Stop. Jaskier, stop," Geralt wanted to wrench the scissors away. He could only hover his hand uselessly above Jaskier's wrist, not daring to touch. "Give me those."

"No. I need to finish."

"Jaskier! It's already completely shredded," if Geralt hadn't seen Jaskier wearing a doublet made from the fabric, he wouldn't have been able to tell what it had originally been. "You're more than finished."

Jaskier simply lifted another scrap from the floor and started to cut it in tiny pieces.

"Give me the scissors. Now."

The bard did lift his face to meet Geralt's eyes, but didn't relinquish them. "I have to do this."

"Why?" if Geralt couldn't make Jaskier stop, maybe he could get him to tell what was happening. "Talk to me."

"It's lilac. Almost."

That didn't make sense.

"And?"

"I don't want to wear it. I don't even want to see it," there was pure disgust in Jaskier's voice.

"So you cut it?"

"Can't burn it here. So yeah."

Geralt wasn't any closer to figuring out what was going on. "Why?"

"It's similar to the clothes Marden made me wear," Jaskier hissed, using the scissors with even more frantic energy.

Now it made sense.

"Okay. You do realize you've already obliterated it?" Geralt pointed out. "There's nothing left."

Jaskier gave one last snip of scissors before looking at the small pieces littering the floor.

"...I guess," he muttered, clenching the scissors once more before depositing them into Geralt's waiting hands.

"Thanks," Geralt had absolutely no plans for returning the scissors to their usual spot. He was more than done finding Jaskier using them. He didn't want to find out what would happen next time.

"Geralt. I'm not going to hurt myself," Jaskier said as if having read his mind. "I'm not."

"Hmmm."

"Didn't mean to worry you," the bard sighed. "I just… I just saw the doublet and had to get rid of it."

"Hmmm."

"Should probably have thought twice about how to go about it. But I don't regret doing it," Jaskier was practically vibrating.

"Jaskier, you need to calm down," Geralt reminded him.

"I am calm!"

"...Maybe I'm not calm," Jaskier mumbled a second later. "Bloody hell. This is so fucking frustrating."

"Take a deep breath," Geralt offered.

"How about you take a walk?" Jaskier hissed.

Geralt had to grind his teeth together to avoid snapping back at the bard. One of them being agitated was more than enough. It'd be far too easy to escalate things into a fight as it was.

"I'm sorry Geralt. I didn't mean to say that," Jaskier huffed, still annoyed, and got up to pace around. "It's just… it's like there's ants running all over me. Or, or lightning coursing through. This all encompassing restlessness. Inside out."

As much as Geralt wished Jaskier didn't have to feel like that, he was glad the bard had started to verbalize what was wrong.

Jaskier had stopped to glare at a wall.

"If you even think about punching it, I'll punch you, " Geralt stated.

Jaskier pivoted on his heels to continue pacing and Geralt was quite sure the bard would actually have hit the wall if not warned not to.

"Jaskier, do you want to go for a walk with me? Get out for a bit?"

In response Jaskier pulled his boots on and gestured for the Witcher to lead the way.

Geralt hoped he hadn't just made the wrong call.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That went at least a bit better than previous times.
> 
> Also, I have written the whole ballad. But unlike Jaskier I most definitely ain't a songwriter so whether or not its any good is a totally different question.


	37. Chapter 37

Going out was both a very good and very bad idea.

Jaskier wasn't sure yet which one was stronger.

It hadn't taken them long to get out of the inn, Geralt walking so briskly that Jaskier had almost had to jog to keep up. They weren't slowing down much even now that Geralt was leading him down the streets. The pace was actually starting to make Jaskier's legs ache and breaths turn closer to pants. He hadn't spent much time upright, let alone chasing after a Witcher on a mission, lately.

The good thing about it was that it didn't leave him much time to focus on the restless undercurrent of anxiety or the environment.

The bad thing about having to focus on moving so keenly was that he got startled again and again by people he hadn't noticed, making his anxiety spike randomly.

And he was starting to lag.

Geralt took one more turn before stopping, giving time for Jaskier to catch his breath.

"Wasn't this supposed to be a walk?" Jaskier wheezed, slightly bent and hands braced against his knees. "Not a sprint?"

"Forgot you'd be moving slower than usually."

Jaskier could detect a hint of an apology in Geralt's tone.

"We can walk slower from now on."

How gracious.

"Do you have a goal in mind or are we just wandering around?" Jaskier asked curiously. They had left the main streets, getting closer to the town border. In any case Geralt had made a good call not staying in the crowded areas.

"I have a destination. It's not far," Geralt confirmed, starting to walk again in a much slower pace, just as promised.

"Great," Jaskier was sure he wouldn't be able to get there if it was far. Hopefully there would be somewhere he could sit.

Being outside after so many days was nice. Even though he had slept through the vast majority of the time, the room had started to feel a bit claustrophobic with the way he couldn't exit it alone.

Not without regretting it severely.

Aside from having to duck behind Geralt a few times to avoid other pedestrians, the walk out of town was quiet and uneventful. It was giving Jaskier a chance to settle. The Witcher started to follow a small track that took them through a crop of trees before ending on the edge of a small glade.

"I noticed this today while riding," Geralt explained, stepping among the tall grass and wildflowers. "Thought you might like it."

Jaskier did.

He really, really did.

"I do," Jaskier said, letting his fingers trail along the tips of the tallest grasses as he followed.

It was clear the glade was in use with the way there were small paths formed where people tended to walk and sit around. Jaskier thought he also spotted a lone wooden sword, laying on the ground forgotten.

It was peaceful.

"Jaskier," Geralt called softly, making him turn to face the Witcher. "Here."

There was a dandelion being offered to him.

For a heartbeat Jaskier stood frozen, not knowing what to do, thrown completely off guard. It took Geralt to start lowering his hand for him to remember how to move.

"Thank you," Jaskier whispered in wonder, taking the flower.

It was the most beautiful thing he had ever been gifted.

With a small smile Jaskier placed it behind his ear. "How do I look?"

Jaskier was smiling.

Smiling.

And wearing the flower Geralt had given him.

Geralt felt like he had suddenly forgotten how to do anything else than stare at the bard, starstruck. He was smiling. Jaskier had never looked more beautiful. He was smiling. With the dandelion behind his ear.

"Am I that dazzling?" Jaskier asked sweetly.

Yes, yes he was.

"Don't flatter yourself," Geralt scoffed and turned away.

The only thing Geralt could focus on was the small smile. The way Jaskier's blue eyes had danced. The way yellow flower contrasted against the dark brown hair. The smile. Geralt had missed it. He hadn't even realized just how much he had missed seeing Jaskier smile until now.

Geralt knew that if he were to turn around, he'd do something he'd regret.

Like kiss Jaskier on those damn smiling lips.

It was safer to ignore the bard.

And his small, genuine, smile.

If Geralt had had any doubts about the nature of his feelings, they were completely gone. He had fallen and kept falling. He didn't mind.

There was a soft thud behind him. Jaskier had probably laid down on the grass. Geralt admitted that he might have walked slightly too fast to get him away from the busier streets. They weren't in a hurry anymore. Jaskier was free to rest for as long as he wanted.

"Sit with me."

Geralt didn't think it was a good idea to turn around yet. "You know how to do it by yourself."

"Come on, you grump," Jaskier said, patting the grass. "Sit."

With a long suffering huff Geralt did as told.

He still wasn't sure how good the idea was.

Jaskier was laying down, serene look on his face and remnants of the smile in his blue eyes as he watched Geralt lower himself to the ground. It was unfair how lovely Jaskier looked like that. There were even flowers around him.

"Thank you," Jaskier repeated after they had stayed in silence for a while. "Not for just the dandelion. For everything."

"Hmmm."

"I keep saying sorry but a lot of the time I mean thank you. I _am_ sorry for how all this shit got suddenly dumped on you. I _am_ sorry for making everything difficult," Jaskier closed his eyes and started to tug at the grass. "But when I apologize, I also mean thank you for helping. For staying."

"I know you're done accepting apologies and it's fine. I understand. It's just…" he trailed off.

"I haven't stopped accepting. I just don't want to hear them," Geralt huffed. "You keep saying sorry for things that aren't your fault."

"Oh."

Oh, indeed. Apparently the bard had managed to come up with a wrong conclusion why he was so fed up with all the apologies. Who could possibly have guessed shouting at Jaskier after a traumatic flashback might have lent itself for misunderstandings? Once again Geralt really wanted to kick himself.

"...Sorry."

"What did I just say, Jaskier?"

"Sorry. Fuck!"

The bard would eventually get there.

They were on the same page now.

"Feeling better?" Geralt asked, wanting to hear it even if the almost tangible agitation had disappeared.

"Yeah. This is really nice, getting away for a bit. I can't believe you found such a lovely spot," Jaskier stretched and sat up again. "Although, you do have a knack for finding good campsites in general. Do you just follow the smell of flowers and grass or something?"

"I'm not a hound dog."

"Really? Could have fooled me."

This was so normal and familiar that Geralt was starting to relax. Jaskier wasn't the only one who had needed this respite. Sitting here, exchanging lazy banter and listening to the wind in the trees was soothing.

 _"Under the moon and flowering tree / We laid together, alone, wanting,"_ Jaskier hummed quietly under his breath. There was still a slight raspiness in his voice.

"Your ballad?" Geralt was happy Jaskier really was working on it.

"It's slowly taking form. Far from finished."

"Hmmm."

Jaskier was the most content he had been in a long time. All this was so comforting, so thoughtful.

Geralt was incredible.

He kept trying so hard.

It made Jaskier's heart ache.

"Geralt? Can I touch your hair for a bit?" the thought of doing so was making Jaskier nervous.

But if Geralt said yes it should be fine. It should be. If Geralt agreed he really would be okay with it. Geralt wouldn't lie. And the Witcher could always just refuse. Say no if he didn't want hands touching his hair.

"Sure," Geralt huffed, not sounding particularly enthusiastic but also not averse.

It was enough to stop Jaskier's over-thinking.

"Thanks," Jaskier shuffled so he was kneeling behind Geralt and gently freed his hair from its tie.

Geralt's hair was softer than it looked as Jaskier combed his fingers through it a few times before starting to braid the same part he had just let loose. The Witcher gave a sigh as nimble finger worked his hair.

"There. Now we match," Jaskier declared retreating back to his original spot out of arm reach.

"What did you do?" Geralt asked, feeling the back of his head to figure out what had changed.

"Returned the favor. You deserve flowers," Jaskier gave a small smile. Geralt's fingers were brushing against the dandelions braided into his hair.

They'd be easy to pluck out if Geralt didn't want to keep them.

"...Thanks?" Geralt said bemused, eyes focused on the bard's face.

"You're welcome," Jaskier's heart was filling with love as Geralt let his arms fall, not removing the flowers.

The Witcher would look pretty wearing a flower crown. Maybe some other time. Jaskier didn't have energy to start weaving. His eyelids were heavy.

"Geralt… We should head back," he sighed full of regret. Damn his weak and run down body, not letting him enjoy this to the fullest.

It was bit of a struggle to get to his feet but Jaskier managed it with minimal embarrassment.

"Are you sure you can get back to the inn?" Geralt looked a heartbeat away from offering assistance.

"Yes, Geralt. That's why I suggested doing it now," Jaskier said as he walked on tired legs. "You're not giving me a piggyback ride or whatever you're contemplating."

The idea sounded objectively fun. Maybe one day.

"Hmmm," Geralt was still keeping an eye on him, walking side by side.

They could tell the inn was full of customers even from the street. The laughter and clamor were spilling out from the open door letting in the balmy evening air. Jaskier was too tired to curb his instinct to hold on to the back of Geralt's shirt this time. It'd allow him to follow the Witcher blindly through the common space filled with people.

"Okay?" he checked with Geralt.

"Okay," Geralt didn't seem perturbed in the least.

The Witcher really was too good for him, fulfilling even such childish requests without question.

Jaskier didn't know how to feel about it.

It was a relief to get back to their room, away from the outside world and other people. Just the two of them and no possibility of someone suddenly appearing.

Jaskier flopped onto the bed, letting his legs hang off the edge. He didn't want to place his dirty shoes on the covers. It felt like it'd take monumental effort to pull them off.

"Geraaaaalt. Come help me with the boots. I don't want to move," Jaskier whined, sticking one leg out and knowing it'd never happen. He was just doing it for the show and emphasis.

This wasn't the first time, not by far. The answer was always the same: being completely ignored as if he didn't exist. Which was why Jaskier almost jumped out of his skin when Geralt suddenly loomed over him.

"You sure?" Geralt asked.

"Who are you and what did you do to Geralt?" Jaskier demanded, feeling weirded out. This wasn't how it was supposed to go.

"Very funny," Geralt drawled. "Want my help or not?"

Jaskier couldn't do much more than stare at astonishment before getting the words out. "Ummm… Go for it?"

It was very strange having Geralt pull his boots off, acting like he had always done this for him. Jaskier was at loss for what to do.

"... Thanks…?" that seemed neutral enough.

"Mmmm," Geralt was moving back to the door. "I'll bring dinner up. Don't fall asleep."

There was absolutely no chance of that happening now. Jaskier was far too awake suddenly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember to brush your teeth after so much fluff!
> 
> Poor Geralt keeps short-circuiting... xD


	38. Chapter 38

"I miss Roach," Jaskier declared, tapping a spoon nervously against his bowl. "Let's go greet her."

The tavern was quiet, other patrons also eating their breakfasts bleary-eyed, not quite ready to face the day. It made everything easier. Less to keep track of. Letting Jaskier to actually focus on things. Like hearing his own thoughts.

Geralt shrugged in agreement.

And refused to move until there was no food left.

Roach was happily munching hay as they arrived to the stable, looking perfectly content with her lodgings. It must have been a nice change of pace not to be on the mercy of the weather and having other horses around. Jaskier wondered if she sometimes got lonely with only them for company. After all, neither of them could understand…horsen? horseish? Language of horses?

"Hey girl. Long time no see," Jaskier greeted as he stepped into the stall after Geralt.

Roach didn't deign to lift her head to greet either of them back.

Hay was far above in the hierarchy of needs compared to mere mortals.

"You're very focused this morning. It's good to have priorities. You must take every bit of enjoyment from this impromptu holiday you're getting," Jaskier continued, starting to brush her neck. "Sorry I didn't bring you dessert."

"Has Geralt remembered to gift treats to you?" Jaskier asked, aiming it also at the Witcher.

Geralt gave a noncommittal hum from where he was checking Roach's hooves.

Jaskier took it for the confirmation it was. Outsiders would never guess how spoiled the mare truly was.

Roach deserved it.

Jaskier was startled as the doors were opened and a couple walked in, heading to their horses. Grabbing a handful of mane and pressing himself against Roach he managed to squeak something resembling a greeting after being briefly addressed. He could feel Geralt's eyes on him from where the Witcher was squatting by Roach's hind legs.

Jaskier jumped again as Roach nudged him gently. He hadn't noticed her stop eating.

"Thank you, Roach. I'm glad to know my discomfort is more important than hay," Jaskier mumbled, hugging the mare and checking if there actually was any hay left or if she had simply finished. There was hay. Jaskier gave a few more scratches in thanks for her sacrifice.

A few minutes later Roach's coat was shining, mane and tail combed, and hooves cleaned.

"You truly are the most gorgeous girl in this stable, love," Jaskier said, pressing a soft kiss to her muzzle before exiting the stall.

"Geralt, hold on a second," Jaskier requested as they were about to start climbing the stairs leading to the second floor and changed directions to walk to the bar. He could feel Geralt following him.

"...Morning Alisa," Jaskier said quietly, making her turn around.

"Jaskier, hi!" she greeted happily while giving Geralt a wary look. "Can I help you with something?"

"Yeah. I was… I was wondering if I could perform today?" Jaskier had to swallow nervously. His hands were starting to shake again.

Geralt shifted behind him in surprise. Right, he hadn't told the Witcher that he was planning on playing. Jaskier couldn't stop wondering if this was a good idea. Maybe he should have asked for Geralt's opinion. He seemed to have a better sense of what was too much.

"I won't be able to sing for long but maybe I could trade it for our dinners…?"

"Sure! I really did mean what I said about wanting to hear you perform," Alisa seemed sincerely excited.

It was making the heavy feeling in Jaskier's chest lighten a little.

"Thank you, Alisa," with that Jaskier started to head back to their room again.

He saw Geralt give her a very nasty look before following.

The Witcher clearly held a grudge.

"Geralt. She's not a monster you've been hired to kill. You can stop glaring at her like one," Jaskier chided once they were alone again. "She's done nothing wrong."

"She's a perfectly lovely young lady who just had the misfortune to flirt with a disaster," he continued, gesturing at himself.

"You're not a disaster," came the displeased rebuttal.

"And you're a brunette."

Geralt gave a frustrated grumble.

"Sorry I didn't tell you about planning on performing," Jaskier changed the topic. "Is it okay if I do it?"

"You don't need my permission," Geralt said, giving him a strange look. "I'm not in charge of you."

"Ah. Yes. Right," it was a foolish thought that Geralt would suddenly want to start ordering him around. The Witcher wouldn't restrict his freedom.

Maybe disapprove and put his foot down if he was being reckless, but not tell him what to do just for the hell of it. It was weird how having control over things still felt foreign.

Jaskier had never been one to be ordered around.

If he was, he wouldn't have tagged along with Geralt in the first place.

Yet here he was, expecting someone to start telling him what to do and not take no for an answer. Jaskier wasn't sure if he would dare to try refusing at all. He would probably just go along with it quietly, not protesting. Even if it'd be something he would hate.

It was so wrong. And dangerous. He knew it was.

Jaskier wasn't sure if knowing would be enough to prevent him from doing so. Most likely not. He hadn't been able to say no to even Alisa. It had been her backing off.

"Will you stay for the performance?" he tried to shake the thought off.

"Yes."

"Thanks. I appreciate it."

"Geralt, can we go back to the glade?" Jaskier asked, walking to his lute case. "I need to practice. And can't really do it here."

It had been far too long since the last time he had played. Even longer for singing. Jaskier was sure he'd be rusty.

"Hmmm," Geralt started to put his armor on.

The walk was still nerve-wracking. Jaskier really hated how much he shied from people. It hadn't been this bad at first. Wasn't it supposed to get easier, not harder with time? He had been able to handle shopping in a crowded marketplace right after Marden. Now just walking around in a busy street gave him anxiety.

At least Geralt wasn't making him speed walk.

Jaskier was glad the glade was empty. He didn't want to try to find another place. Although, Geralt's mere presence might have made the previous occupants scatter without a word.

Settling in the same spot as yesterday, Jaskier took his lute out and started to tune it. "Sorry for making you tag along. I know this won't be interesting to you."

"Jaskier," a tired sigh.

"Oops, sorry. Shit. Thank you. That's what I meant."

"You're welcome," Geralt said, unsheathing his sword.

Apparently the Witcher did have a productive way to spend the time. It was nice to watch him go through stances while Jaskier planned which songs to play. He would keep to the easier ones. Sprinkle in well-known ones for the audience to join in so he could rest his voice after leading them to take care of the singing. Wouldn't be close to his best performances but still better than if he'd fumble the chords or miss notes.

Geralt was already through a quarter of his practice before Jaskier started to play.

Jaskier had missed this.

Missed the weight of the lute in his lap, the way the strings felt as his fingers danced over them, coaxing the sounds he wanted. Didn't matter that his fingertips were still complaining about such activity.

Jaskier stopped after only one song, switching to scales to warm up his voice. He had been right, there was still lingering tightness from the cold and so little use in general.

It was hard to make it strong enough, to project correctly. He couldn't stop the niggling worry he wouldn't be able to do it in front of so many people looking at him.

Jaskier didn't know what he'd do if he failed.

Something really stupid for sure. Maybe he should warn Geralt in advance so he would know to keep an eye out in case it'd really happen. The Witcher would probably appreciate it.

A few songs later Jaskier had to stop, knowing his voice would soon turn hoarse. Suddenly a waterskin landed in front of him.

"Do you keep producing these from thin air?" Jaskier hadn't even noticed Geralt had grabbed one to bring along.

Geralt just huffed and returned to his own practice.

The Witcher really was a sight. Each swing sure and powerful. Not a movement wasted. All deadly grace and razor-sharp concentration. Jaskier couldn't help but give a small appreciative sigh. No matter how many times he saw Geralt do it, it never got any less breathtaking.

Eventually Geralt too finished, coming to sit just an arm reach away from Jaskier and wiping sweat off his brow.

It was Jaskier's turn to toss the waterskin. Geralt caught it from mid-air, not even looking.

The show-off.

"Geralt… I was thinking and… You've noticed how difficult it's for me to talk to strangers, right?" Jaskier started, uprooting grass and shredding it in a nervous tick. "I've also been so quiet in general that it's a bit hard to make my voice carry as usual while singing. I'm worried… worried that…"

He had to take a small break to swallow his anxiety down. "Worried that I'll fail. And I don't know… I really don't know what I'll end up doing in that case. If Marden… if Marden has managed to rip that too from me after all… Everything else I can deal with. But that..."

"Can you… make sure I won't- won't do anything I'll regret?" Putting his fear of himself in words was absolutely terrifying in itself.

"Can I hold your hand?" Geralt asked, voice soft and eyes incredibly intense as Jaskier briefly glanced at him.

Jaskier could only nod, words gone and breaths difficult to manage. Geralt's warm hands took one of his in a gentle but firm grip.

"Jaskier. I'll make sure you won't do anything. I promise," Geralt's voice was sure. "But it'll be fine. You've done it twice already. There was nothing wrong with those performances. Nothing has been …stolen… or whatever you fear has happened."

"You'll be alright. You can do this. And I'll be there for you," the Witcher continued, trying to find eye contact. "Thank you for telling me."

Jaskier could only nod again, trying to blink tears away.

"Jaskier, I mean it. Thank you."

Geralt's reassurance was helping. Lifting some of the fear away. The Witcher would make sure he'd be safe, even from himself. Jaskier had never felt like this, so frightened of himself. Of his nonexistent impulse control. And it had scared him before too.

But Geralt was here for him.

Jaskier slowly lifted their joined hands to rest his forehead against them, trying to draw strength from Geralt. Strength that was for some reason freely offered, not from obligation or another ulterior motive.

But simply because Geralt wanted to.

Rest of the day went by in an anxious fog so thick Jaskier wasn't able to remember much of what he had done during it. Mostly just followed Geralt's lead. It was disturbing. Jaskier hadn't had such a day for some time. He hated losing time or remembering very little of his actions. Had hoped that he was done with it. Only the last few hours had been clear again.

Maybe he should try to be pleased that the episode, or whatever he should call them, hadn't lasted longer.

"Ready?" Geralt asked as Jaskier stood in front of the lute case.

It was nice how the Witcher didn't question if he'd be able to perform as planned.

"Yeah," Jaskier wasn't sure if he was lying or not.

It was still a bit early to start but Jaskier wanted to be able to get them a central table. That way he could stay near Geralt while playing. The Witcher's presence should make his audience think twice before approaching. And it'd make him feel safer in general.

The tavern was steadily filling out, making Jaskier unable to do much more than roll his drink between his hands. It'd be time soon. He felt like a nervous first-timer.

He had survived his first performance.

He would survive this too.

"Wish me luck," Jaskier whispered to Geralt and stood up.

Jaskier strummed his lute once to gather everyone's attention to himself. For a heartbeat he wanted to sprint away, his legs even shifting in preparation before he got himself under control.

"I'm the bard Jaskier and here to delight your evening. My apologies in advance for not being able to play the whole night away. Sadly my voice is still recovering from a cold I recently had," Jaskier projected his words to reach every corner. He could hear a faint tremor in his voice. Hopefully it wasn't too noticeable to others.

With that he gave a small bow and started on the first song.

There still was an undercurrent of anxiety showing through his performance but Jaskier could feel himself relaxing the longer it went on. His stiff fingers started to play with more confidence and voice lose the nervous edge.

This was the one thing Jaskier knew how to do without a doubt. This was what he wanted and had decided to do for the rest of his life.

The one thing that couldn't be taken from him.

Not by anyone.

As Jaskier had predicted, his voice didn't last a fraction of what it normally did. No chance of playing through the evening and continuing into late hours of the night. Sipping water in between the songs and letting audience bellow choruses could do only so much.

Finishing with a bow, Jaskier leaned against the table and watched people start to get up.

"Give me an excuse to leave," he whispered to Geralt, too quiet for human ears to hear. No way was he letting this be ruined by being overwhelmed by strangers getting too familiar.

"That's it. Let's go," Geralt grumbled, starting to herd Jaskier towards the stairs.

"Oh dear. Seems I can't stay with you good people," Jaskier lamented walking in front of Geralt, shooting regretful looks around. "If you feel so gracious as to demonstrate your appreciation, our lady Alisa at the bar will save the tokens for me."

Jaskier was quite sure she would do so even if they hadn't discussed it in advance. If not, well, it's not like he could prove it.

As soon as Geralt locked the door behind them, Jaskier twirled around arms spread wide and a happy smile on his face. "I did it! I actually did it!"

"Geralt, I did it!" Jaskier gave a bright laugh feeling absolutely elated. "Can I hug you?"

At Geralt's stunned nod, Jaskier skipped the few steps separating them and practically crashed against the Witcher's chest, wrapping both arms around his neck.

"I did it!" Jaskier repeated with another burst of laughter full of wonder.

He gave a tight squeeze before backing off, still smiling. "Thank you Geralt!"

Jaskier couldn't remember the last time he felt truly happy.

Geralt was completely stunned. Awed. Starstruck.

A fool in love.

Jaskier was laughing and all but dancing around the room. The bard looked absolutely ecstatic after managing a performance without it devolving into a shit show. Having his fears around it swept away. Proving to himself he could still do it.

Geralt was once again gripped by the urge to kiss Jaskier senseless. He really needed to get himself under control. This was getting ridiculous.

Jaskier's joy was infectious.

"You did it," Geralt said with a smile of his own.

"Thank you! Thank you so much, Geralt!" Jaskier beamed. "I couldn't have done it without you."

"It was you, Jaskier," Geralt rebuffed. The bard better not try to shove the credit off himself. "It was all you."

Jaskier was looking so happy.

"Maybe. But you still helped. You keep helping. So much," the bard said earnestly, locking eyes with Geralt.

"Geralt. Can I really do this?" Jaskier asked, gesturing vaguely to himself and everything else. "Honestly?"

"Yes," Geralt said forcefully, not leaving any space for doubt.

"Huh," Jaskier blinked at him. "I kind of believe you."

Kind of was more than before. This one was no small victory. Those five words meant a lot to Jaskier. And to Geralt. The bard was finally, finally, starting to think things could change for the better.

That he could get better.

Geralt had a horrible feeling that everything would have collapsed beyond repair if the evening had gone differently. But it hadn't. He could shelve that particular worry away for now. He'd rather focus on the here and now.

"Good. Because I'm right," Geralt huffed with a half smile. "Start listening to me."

"That's a tall order," Jaskier sighed theatrically, letting himself fall backwards onto the bed.

Geralt could practically feel how the energy was draining out of Jaskier as his elation started to level out. It really had been hell of a day for the bard.

"I guess you want to take a look at the cut before bed?" Jaskier asked, unbuttoning his doublet and shrugging it off.

"Hmmm."

Jaskier froze again just before lifting his chemise, closing his eyes and taking deep breaths to gather himself. Geralt noted that his hands were trembling again. Just because the bard was in a good mood didn't mean things would miraculously turn easy for him. Hopefully Jaskier didn't expect it to happen.

Finally Jaskier managed to lift it up to let Geralt work. The trembling in the bard's hands spread out to encompass him wholly, but his breathing stayed relatively controlled.

"It looks healed enough for you to go without bandaging tomorrow. But I'll make the final call in the morning," Geralt informed the bard, winding fresh gauze around his torso.

"Mmmm. That's good," Jaskier's voice had turned quiet again. He wasn't making any moves to put his doublet on after Geralt had finished. "You can take the bed tomorrow night then."

"No."

"You're the one paying. Take it."

"No."

"Hnnrgh!" Jaskier let out a strangled groan. "Fine!"

The bard had to be tired to give up so quickly. At least they'd both get to sleep faster this way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What could be better than happy Jaskier? Absolutely nothing if you ask Geralt.
> 
> Taking weekend off again, btw!


	39. Chapter 39

Jaskier woke up gasping desperately for air, shooting up. He had to-! He had to-!

"Jaskier?"

Geralt.

Geralt was looking at him, starting to get up from where he had been laying down. It was too dark to see clearly but there didn't seem to be blood on him.

No blood.

No blood?

No deadly necklace made of blood and gaping flesh?

No red staining his lips?

No sword slowly making its way through the soft skin?

Jaskier gave a raspy sob and scrambled until he could fall on his knees in front of Geralt, hands fluttering uselessly over the Witcher's throat and chest but not daring to touch.

"Jaskier, you're safe."

But what about Geralt?

"Just a dream. You're okay."

Jaskier couldn't giving a rat's ass if he was okay or not. He could rot in hell for all he cared. Only important thing here was Geralt. If Geralt was safe.

"You-!" Jaskier needed to know. Needed to know if Geralt was alright. "Are you-!"

"Am I what?"

"Geralt-! Where are you hurt?" Just because the Witcher's throat wasn't slashed open didn't mean he wasn't dying.

"I'm not."

Fucking Witchers and their stubbornness, downplaying everything. "Where are you hurt?!"

"I'm not wounded, Jaskier. Stay put."

"Don't. Move," Jaskier commanded. If Geralt moved, he might worsen something, cause himself to bleed out. The Witcher had been stabbed after all. Dying.

It couldn't happen. It couldn't. Jaskier hadn't been lying. He would do anything if it kept Geralt alive. He would even throw himself at Marden with feigned enthusiasm if that turned out to be the only way. Anything. As long as Geralt kept breathing. Jaskier didn't know why he had fought back. Not when it led to this. He hadn't been thinking. He should have remembered. Remembered that the Witcher was also at the king's mercy. He should have given himself quietly instead of fighting for small victories. Not focused only on his own terror. Spared Geralt the pain. Geralt wouldn't have had to ever know. It'd be worth it. Anything would be worth Geralt's life. Anything.

Jaskier's frantically careening thoughts were interrupted as Geralt got briefly up to light a candle before returning. The light felt blindingly bright.

"Do you know where you are, Jaskier?" Geralt asked, trying to catch Jaskier's rapidly blinking eyes.

"Uhhh…" the candlelight wasn't showing the room Marden had locked him in. It didn't match with what Jaskier had been sure was real just seconds ago. "I…"

"The inn. It's been just over two weeks since Marden died. Fifteen days to be precise."

"...Oh…"

"You're safe. And I'm not wounded," Geralt added as an afterthought. "It was just another nightmare."

Jaskier really didn't know where Geralt got the patience to keep repeating that mantra. Just because he had told him talking helped didn't mean Geralt had to do it.

"You're not hurt…?"

"No, I'm not. See?" Geralt brought the candle closer as he lifted his chin up. "The bastard didn't slit my throat or whatever."

Jaskier wasn't sure if he believed his eyes.

"You can touch if you want to," Geralt said, still baring his neck.

How could Geralt be so vulnerable? How? It wasn't how the Witcher normally acted. At all. Why was he doing this? Where was Geralt finding that trust to override all of his instincts? Jaskier barely dared to breath as he let his fingers gently brush against the ghost of the wound.

He could feel Geralt swallow at the contact.

There was no blood.

With a relieved sigh bordering on another sob Jaskier let his hand fall. Geralt wasn't going to die. He hadn't caused the Witcher's death. He could have. He almost had.

They were both safe. At least Jaskier thought they were. The more he focused on it, the less he started to believe it.

"Don't do that. Don't start to overthink," Geralt reprimanded him. "You always get to the wrong conclusions."

"Mmmm…"

Geralt did have a point.

"Do you think you can go back to sleep?"

This was so embarrassing. He was a fucking adult yet here Geralt was, having to ask such questions. Even worse, he needed the reassurances. Jaskier wished the floor would open up and swallow him.

"Yes," he couldn't. Jaskier still got up from Geralt's bedroll to move back to the bed. He was not going to tell the Witcher he wouldn't be able to fall asleep again because of a mere nightmare.

"Right then," Geralt snuffed the candle and returned it to its rightful place.

Jaskier was surprised to feel the mattress shift near his legs when Geralt leaned against it, settling to sit on the floor instead of laying down again. Apparently he had noticed the lie and simply decided to stay silent.

It was the kindest thing Geralt could have done.

Jaskier had been half right about not being able to sleep more. In the end, he had dozed off few times only to startle awake again. Each time Geralt was still where he had settled down. It was comforting to immediately see him. Eventually the Witcher did get up to start his morning routines, trying to move as quietly as he could. It was very quiet. Jaskier didn't feel like facing the day yet, so he just buried deeper underneath the covers and tried to force himself to fall asleep. Obviously it didn't work.

With a groan he gave up. "Morning."

"How are you feeling?" Geralt went straight to the point.

Jaskier wasn't sure. The elation of yesterday's performance was gone and the nightmare kept niggling at him. But it wasn't as bad as it could have been.

"Good question. Undecided for now," Jaskier answered with a shrug and got up.

"Hmmm."

"Geralt. How much money do you have left?" Jaskier suddenly realized how long they had been lodging here. And neither of them could be called rich.

Fuck. He was draining even Geralt's coin on top of everything else.

"Enough. I didn't spend any of the reward for the kikimora before coming here," Geralt said dismissively.

Except Jaskier had a solid grasp of the going rate of monster hunting business by now. With the prices of the inn Geralt would have to take another job soon even if they continued on within a day or two. Hopefully Alisa really had saved the coins from yesterday. It'd help at least a bit since otherwise Jaskier was close to penniless currently.

"We have a different view on what's enough then," Jaskier frowned. "We need to leave."

"No."

"Geralt, we're not made of money! You can't keep paying for two. Not the way you've been doing while I've been unable to help share the bill," he didn't want to keep inconveniencing Geralt in yet another way.

"We're not leaving," Geralt's tone didn't book arguments. "You're not ready to move on yet."

"I don't care! This is basic math," Jaskier fumed. "I'm not going to deplete even your money. I don't want to keep taking and taking. Fuck my needs, they aren't important."

"Stop talking about yourself like that! Fuck, Jaskier, I told you I'm going to make sure you won't harm yourself, purposefully or not," Geralt snapped. "And getting the hell out of here is not going to help you. You need human contact."

Jaskier felt like hissing like an angry cat. He refrained. It was exhausting how he was the cause of all their problems.

"Fine. Prepare for long nights, I'll be playing each and every one unless the innkeeper forbids me. Maybe I can get the room for free."

Jaskier didn't care if he'd end up singing his throat raw or playing his fingertips bloody. He was not going to be a freeloader for a second longer. He was enough of a burden as it was. Straightening his doublet Jaskier marched out of the room, intending to go bargain a deal. The moment Jaskier got to the hallway, his determination was swapped by nervousness and he had to stop and make sure Geralt was following. He couldn't do this alone.

An unfamiliar middle-aged man was behind the counter as they approached it, making Jaskier falter again. Damn it, Geralt had been right. Traveling the wilderness wouldn't be a good idea at the moment if he wanted to get used to interacting with people again.

"...Morning…" Jaskier greeted quietly, drawing the focus on himself. Geralt was a steadying presence, once again standing behind him and guarding his back.

"I think miss Alisa might have saved something for me from last evening…?"

"You're the bard?" the man asked, looking him up and down.

Jaskier clenched his fists at the casual glance. "...Yeah."

"Well then, she did put some coins aside for you to claim."

That was a relief.

"We're planning on staying for a bit longer and I was hoping…" Jaskier had to take a brief pause to gather himself as the man frowned like he wanted to say something but stayed silent after glancing at Geralt. "Hoping I could perform each evening for exchange of free lodging…?"

"From what I heard, your performance wasn't nearly long enough to warrant it," the bartender? innkeeper? huffed crossing his arms.

"...Ah, yes. I had a cold recently. Had to take it slow," Jaskier did his best to keep his voice steady. A bard scared to talk wouldn't inspire confidence. "I'd play whole evenings, until it gets late, of course. From now on."

Jaskier was afraid his heart would burst from his chest with the way it was hammering. He was starting to feel almost faint.

"Hmmm. Tonight's performance for your meals, not the Witcher's, and if it's a good one, rest will be traded for the current room," the innkeeper offered.

"Deal," Jaskier would have taken any agreement. He just wanted to run away. Right now.

"Breakfast, please," he continued, leaving enough behind to cover Geralt's as he took the money his appreciative audience had left yesterday and quickly retreated.

Jaskier had to bury his face into crossed arms, halfway to laying on the table, breath stuttering and heartbeat not slowing down. He couldn't focus. He couldn't think. He kept flexing his fingers in an attempt to make the threatening tingling recede.

He wasn't going to have a panic attack. He wasn't.

"Jaskier, keep breathing. Slowly," Geralt's voice was filtering in. "In and out."

Jaskier tried his best to follow the advice and soon enough it started to work. He could feel the wood of the table, and the chair he was sitting on, hear the sounds around him. Turning his head, Jaskier saw Geralt next to him, still offering quiet words.

"Hello," he croaked and Geralt fell silent. "That went well."

"It did," the Witcher confirmed, clearly deciding to ignore the sarcasm. "You got through it."

"Riiiight."

"Shut up and think. Would you have been able to do that few days ago?" Geralt said exasperated.

"...No…"

"See?"

"Maybe…?" it was hard to acknowledge having made progress. Everything still felt just as overwhelming.

Geralt let loose an incomprehensible grumble.

Little while later their breakfasts arrived, making Jaskier bite inside of his lip hard enough to draw blood as he stifled an alarmed yelp. He hadn't noticed the innkeeper approaching before the man was next to him. At least it didn't take nearly as long to calm down again.

Jaskier kept twirling his pen nervously, doing his best to substitute it for biting his nails. Geralt had left to ride Roach maybe an hour ago and Jaskier felt like he was about to vibrate out of his skin, anxiety running through his veins making him restless and scared. It was ludicrous how dependent he was on the Witcher. The moment Geralt left, he started to unravel. Maybe the speed varied each time but it kept happening.

Jaskier caught himself scratching his forearm and forced himself to grip his rapidly bouncing leg to not repeat the action. It didn't help. He had to get up to pace around. It would have been nice to get more work done. It was frustrating how slowly the song was taking form.

The pitcher was empty when Jaskier tried to pour himself water. It made his already quickly beating heart kick up a notch with the realization he'd have to go get more. He was parched.

It would be just a quick trip.

Barely few minutes.

He could do it.

His shaking hands weren't agreeing with his mind.

Standing unmoving in front of the door reminded Jaskier of another inn and the terrible worry and anxiety. It wasn't as bad now.

He could do this.

It took him long minutes to step out.

Jaskier had almost gotten back to their room when he heard a door open down the hallway behind him and hurried steps coming closer.

"Hold up!" A hand wrapped around Jaskier's bicep, halting and turning him around. The innkeeper was frowning at him thin lipped.

Everything narrowed down to the hand keeping him in place. There was nothing else.

"Hey, bard. Are you listening?"

With difficulty Jaskier dragged his eyes away from the hand, focusing on the man's face. He should listen. Maybe he would then be released. Maybe. Or maybe he would simply be taken to one of the rooms. The innkeeper would know which ones were unoccupied.

"I said, I've gotten complaints about you. Disturbing others during the night. Being loud, making ruckus, even screaming."

Ah. Yes.

"Look, I meant to say this earlier. I don't care if you give us the performance of the lifetime, the next complaint I get, you and the Witcher are out. I have other customers and they are paying for a place to sleep, not to be awaken by crying."

The hand gave a threatening squeeze before letting go. Jaskier wondered if it was just so the innkeeper could grab a better hold of him. It'd be unnecessary. Jaskier knew he wouldn't try to get away. He'd just… go along. He wasn't sure how to do anything else. It'd be the wisest thing to do, to not provoke. Jaskier didn't know what the man was capable of. If he would get violent when angered. Or do something to Geralt. Jaskier wouldn't let that happen. Seeing Geralt get stabbed once because of him was more than he had ever wanted.

Even without any threats Jaskier wouldn't have refused. He had suddenly forgotten how to.

"One more complaint. You understand?"

Jaskier could only give a tiny nod.

He could still feel the pressure on his arm.

He was still being held.

The innkeeper was already at the stairs.

****

Remember that Flower Glade?

DeanisBatman made an amazing edit for it!!!! LOOK AT IT!!! <3 <3 <3 <3 

Aaaand because I'm trash, I ended up making quick sketches of our bois. Drawing Jask looking so unlike himself HURT! ...I guess I'll just have to draw a regular Jaskier later to drown my sorrows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And Jaskier, love, was having couple good days, too! :(


	40. Chapter 40

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tw: There's one insensitive comment where Geralt is referred in an inhumanizing way. Jaskier immediately berates the sayer for it and it's not used again.   
> It's between:  
> "Geralt wanted to block the way." and "Charmed," Tymon said, looking Geralt over with wide eyes and slight fear."

Roach was happily trotting along a trail Geralt had spotted leading to the nearby forest. He would turn around soon and head back. Leaving Jaskier alone for two or so hours was as long as Geralt was comfortable with, he was worried enough like this. It wasn't even close to the exercise Roach normally got but it'd be enough for now. They'd have to move on soon anyway.

Jaskier had been right. Their funds were slowly running out, enough for maybe three more days. Unless the bard's performances would secure them a room. Then they could stay for longer. The innkeeper better hold to his word. There was no question whether or not the singing would be good enough.

Being around people might be hard for Jaskier but the bard needed it. He had to start acclimating to heal. Hopefully Jaskier would get over his fear of people quickly.

Which Geralt knew wasn't happening.

It would take time. Be really fucking hard. And he wouldn't have the faintest clue about how to actually help Jaskier with it. Geralt was more than aware of his lacking people skills. He could only offer silent support at best and drag the bard away when he would inevitably push too hard.

The trail had started to follow along a small lake, just close enough to keep the shoreline in sight. Geralt brought Roach to halt and dismounted to inspect it.

There were faint drag marks leading into the water.

Well. Their money problems might be solved.

Deciding to let it go for now, Geralt returned to Roach and started the journey back. He would later find out if there was a contract to be found to exterminate the drowner infestation. It had looked like someone had gotten too close to the lake so the chances should be good.

Something at least was looking up.

Jaskier was staring blankly at the water dripping down to the floor. He should do something about it. At least right the pitcher he had toppled while placing it on the table.

He kept only looking.

The hand gripping his arm was still holding him.

He could feel water running down his neck.

He should clean the spillage.

It was a puddle now.

Jaskier had forgotten how to do it.

He knew what the end goal was. He just didn't know how to get there.

He kept staring at the water.

There was the familiar knocking before the door opened.

Jaskier kept staring at the water.

"Jaskier?"

He kept staring at the water.

"What are you doing?"

He kept staring at the water.

"Jaskier? Answer me. Look at me."

With monumental effort Jaskier turned to face Geralt.

"What happened? Jaskier? Talk."

Jaskier couldn't make a sound. He could barely move his lips.

"Can I touch you?"

Jaskier wasn't sure why Geralt bothered asking. It wasn't as if he could stop him.

"Jaskier? Okay, I won't. I won't touch. I'm not going to do it. You know I won't touch you without permission, right? Jaskier?"

Geralt was acting strangely, being so soft spoken. Jaskier wondered what was making Geralt so worried. It didn't suit the Witcher. He was supposed to act always sure of himself. Even when he wasn't. Geralt wasn't supposed to be hesitant.

"Can you sit down? Jaskier, you look about to faint. Sit. Now."

Jaskier did.

"Okay. Tell me what's going on. Jaskier? You're at the inn. You're safe. There's no threat, just us here. It's safe. Jaskier, talk to me."

"...Geralt…" Jaskier remembered how to make a sound.

"That's it. Just tell me what happened. I can't help if I don't know."

Jaskier shook his head. There wasn't anything for Geralt to do. It was his own breakdowns that had caused this. "...Nothing…"

"Don't. Do. That. Don't ignore things again," Geralt sounded incredibly frustrated. "I'm not blind, there's something wrong."

"...My fault. Too loud…" it was hard to recall words. "Disturbing people."

"What the fuck? What's that supposed to mean?"

"...There's been complaints. About me. Crying. Screaming," Jaskier felt a little more grounded. He had toes again. "One more and we're out."

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry I'm such a fuck up I make it impossible to even hold a room," There were tears starting to fall.

This was part of the problem. He needed to stop. Jaskier tried to muffle his cries behind his palms but it was only making it harder to breathe. He couldn't stop.

"It's not your fault, Jaskier," Geralt sounded pained. "It's not. You're not a fuck up. Did something else happen too?"

Jaskier gave a vague gesture at his arm. The spot the innkeeper had held was burning as if it had been branded. It was taking too much focus to keep his cries as close to silent as he could to answer verbally.

"Your… arm?" there was a frown in Geralt's voice. "Did you get grabbed?"

Jaskier nodded, still trying to keep from making noises.

"Fuck! What the fuck is wrong with people?" the Witcher cursed. "Has no one heard of personal space? Bastards. Who was it?"

Geralt looked ready to maim.

"Alisa? It was her, wasn't it?"

"No!" Jaskier exclaimed aghast. "No. Not her."

"Then who?"

"No. Geralt, don't," Jaskier wasn't going to point the Witcher at the innkeeper. He was too close to drawing his sword. "Let it go."

"They hurt you," Geralt growled, making Jaskier blink. "Tell me who it was."

"No."

"Jaskier!"

Jaskier flinched but didn't change his answer. "No. I won't tell you. Geralt, calm down. It's fine."

It wasn't fine. He wasn't fine. He hadn't been able to even stop crying yet. But he would not let Geralt go do something he'd regret. Absolutely not. It was the least he could do for Geralt, try to curb his temper. There wasn't much else he was good for.

"Don't do anything you'd regret. Not for me. Never for me," Jaskier pleaded. "Don't do it. Geralt, don't. You're just angry. It'll pass."

Geralt still looked like he wanted to go murder whoever had touched him, made him cry. But the Witcher did stop demanding the information and kneeled again in front of Jaskier.

"You realize this isn't your fault? You're working through trauma. Nightmares and such are normal," Geralt said, trying to swallow his fury. "I can start waking you up before you get vocal due to them."

"You need to sleep," Jaskier protested.

"Not as much as humans. You know that."

"I'll just stay awake. Catch some sleep in the morning and noon. That way I shouldn't be a bother."

"Absolutely not! You need rest. You're not going to purposefully fuck up your sleep pattern," Geralt shut the idea down. "You will not self-sabotage."

Jaskier didn't know how to make Geralt agree so he stayed quiet, letting silence fall over them. He was finally getting his tears under control.

"...Geralt… You asked what I thought would happen to me when someone touches me," Jaskier said hesitantly after a while.

Geralt gave him all of his focus.

"I- I feared he would drag me into an empty room, away from the hallway. Frightened he wanted… m-me. It's stupid. I know it is. I _know_ every touch isn't a mark of attraction. Definitely doesn't mean they'll fo-force me. I'm being _ridiculous_ ," breathing was getting hard again and Jaskier couldn't help but wonder if he should stop.

Not talk so soon after managing to stop crying. He was well on his way to continuing it.

Maybe not tell at all. It'd just be yet another burden for Geralt to carry.

But the Witcher had asked.

"I just- just start to feel the same- same terror as with Marden. The knowledge things are heading towards it. And I can't even… do anything to resist. I would just go along with it," he was starting to choke on the words.

"What if- what if I actually _do_ want a casual fling, to get over it, under all the apprehension? Why else wouldn't I just refuse? I mean… I've never had any problem with them. It's just sex and fun. And if I don't say no, it's not as if- not-" Jaskier's voice failed as all the air left his lungs.

The far too familiar panic was enveloping Jaskier again, making everything else disappear.

"You with me?" Geralt was peering into his eyes.

"Mhmm," Jaskier couldn't make anything else pass his lips. He didn't know how long he had been fighting for each breath.

His chest hurt.

"If you wanted to have sex you wouldn't get a panic attack just from the thought of it, Jaskier," Geralt said steadily, holding eye contact. "Being so scared you can't refuse doesn't mean you are consenting. Do you understand?"

Jaskier could only give another nod. It was relieving Geralt was giving affirmation, shoving the doubts further away.

"Good. Jaskier, I need to know, does it make you feel like that when I touch you? Are you too frightened to refuse every time?" Geralt asked gravely.

"No," Jaskier whispered, well aware he was blushing. "You're safe."

Geralt gave a sigh full of relief.

"Jaskier, you can always say if you don't want me to touch you. I will not do it without your permission. You've been doing it so far, I just want you to know, really know, it. It's your call."

Jaskier honestly didn't know how Geralt kept doing this, finding the right words, sounding like he actually had some idea what was happening. It probably helped that the Witcher was older than Jaskier usually remembered, giving him better insight about the issue.

Jaskier felt suddenly very young.

Geralt wanted to rip whoever had grabbed Jaskier in pieces. It was probably the innkeeper considering that the bard had also been given a warning. The complainers could join the man in hell too. Fucking bastards, all of them. He'd refrain for Jaskier's sake. The bard clearly didn't share his views on what the motherfuckers deserved. He was far too good-hearted. But Jaskier had hard enough time accepting his reactions weren't a sign of weakness or being fucked up without faceless strangers whining. Geralt was sure the easiest way to end the complaints would be to resume his bedside vigil for now.

Jaskier might not be thrilled about it but tough luck. It was going to happen.

It was grounding to have Jaskier close, reassuring him the bard was out of harm's way. It was slowly draining his anger away, stopping its clawing at his ribcage and transforming it into something manageable. Each new piece of information Jaskier shared kept fanning the flame making Geralt want to get rid of every possible threat. Yet underneath the protective fury, Geralt was hurting for the bard.

It was hard to think about how much pain Jaskier had to be in.

"I think I found a solution for the money problem," Geralt broke the silence, making Jaskier lift his head to face him.

"There's a lake with a drowner infestation. I need to go check if I can get a contract. Want to come along?" It'd do good for the bard to go outside.

"...Sure," Jaskier didn't sound very sure. But he did get up.

Geralt knew he shouldn't be feeling pleased in any way or form about the fact that Jaskier was still holding on to him as they were walking in the streets. It was an obvious sign of how terribly anxious the bard was, yet Geralt couldn't stop the small traitorous flutter in his chest. It felt wrong to take even the slightest enjoyment from something that was caused by Jaskier being uncomfortable.

He would have liked to wrap his arm around the bard to draw him against his side to keep him farther away from passerby.

As it was, Jaskier walked half a step behind Geralt holding lightly on to his belt in a way that was hard for others to see. There wasn't much purchase on the armor.

"Still with me?" Geralt checked again. Jaskier was staying so quiet it seemed prudent to ask once in a while.

"Uh-huh."

Less of an answer than previous times.

They should probably head to less populated streets for a while before turning back if that damn noticeboard didn't show up right now. Geralt had thought this would be a quick there and back trip yet they had been wandering around for a good while now.

"How fucking hard can it be to find a stationary pile of planks?" Geralt grumbled. "I can come look for it later."

"...I'm fine for little while longer," Jaskier mumbled. "It's going to bug me if we give up now."

Geralt should have guessed that. Jaskier had never been good at admitting defeat.

It took them a few minutes longer before they stumbled upon the elusive noticeboard.

"Fucking finally!" Geralt huffed as he started to go through the posters. Jaskier was fidgeting next to him, looking at the people passing by.

"Hmmm. There's a reward for the drowners. I'll take care of them tomorrow," Geralt continued, ripping the notice off the board and claiming it.

"Geralt, let's go. Now," Jaskier said nervously, tugging Geralt in an attempt to move him.

"What's wrong?" the Witcher asked, trying to discern what Jaskier had been staring at. He couldn't spot anything out of the ordinary but did let himself be led away.

The bard didn't get a chance to explain when a voice rang out. "Jaskier? Is that you?"

"Shit," Jaskier murmured before turning around.

"It is! Long time no see! How have you been?" a blond man in his early twenties was walking towards them, waiving an arm.

"Tymon," Jaskier greeted quietly when the man got close.

Geralt wanted to block the way.

"Wait, is that the famous Geralt of Rivia?" Tymon asked as he realized Jaskier was accompanied by a Witcher.

"Yes, _he's_ the famous White Wolf," Jaskier was trying to stifle his annoyance. "Geralt, Tymon. Tymon, Geralt."

"Charmed," Tymon said, looking Geralt over with wide eyes and slight fear.

Geralt stopped a sneer from forming on his face. He wanted to drag Jaskier away right now. The bard was doing his best to hide it but he was getting more and more uncomfortable.

"So, what are you doing here, Jaskier? I didn't expect to run into a familiar face. Oh, we met at Oxenfurt few years ago," Tymon chatted, not paying attention to the mounting tension but adding the last bit for Geralt's benefit.

"Traveling," Jaskier said simply, making clear he wasn't in the mood for exchanging gossip.

"Following the Witcher for new material?" Tymon chuckled. "Where are you staying? We should get a drink or two, catch up. It's been almost a year now, hasn't it?"

"Let's go," Geralt grumbled, shooing Jaskier to start walking. The bard didn't resist at all.

"Sorry. I don't have the time Tymon. We have errands and I need to prepare for a performance," Jaskier's tone was clipped as he walked away, not even turning to look at the other man.

"Oh, but that's splendid! I'll just come to watch and we can talk afterwards."

Geralt could hear the whispered litany of curses Jaskier let loose. The bard's hands were trembling.

"Get lost," Geralt snapped at Tymon who had started to follow.

The man stopped immediately, startled and fearful.

"Jaskier?" he beseeched.

Geralt could practically feel the internal fight going on within Jaskier.

"We're staying at the Cauldron and Cup," Jaskier sighed in defeat.

"Great! I'll meet you there soon then," Tymon clapped his hands together once before bidding them goodbye for now.

"What the fuck, Jaskier?" Geralt growled. "Why the hell did you do that?"

The bard could only shrug in regret.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 40???
> 
> A wild friend appears! 
> 
> And yeah, boys ain't gonna have steamy sexy times soon. To no one's surprise since Jaskier can't even let himself be hugged yet.


	41. Chapter 41

"Why the fuck did I do that?" Jaskier asked no one in particular while doing his best to will the bed into swallowing him. "We aren't even particularly close."

"Because you're an idiot," came Geralt's immediate reply.

"Thank you. That sure helps."

"Geralt? Could you stay with me? Even after I've finished playing?" Jaskier couldn't stop his voice from breaking slightly. "I'd rather not be alone with Tymon. We are friends but…"

"Yes."

"Thank you," this time Jaskier was sincere in his thanks. "I'm sorry- I mean, I appreciate you doing it."

"Hmmm."

Giving one last squeeze to the pillow, Jaskier got up and made sure all his clothes were looking proper before he took his lute out.

"Time to go face the music," he said with a wry smile.

As Jaskier had guessed, Tymon was already in the tavern waiting for him. At least the man had reserved a central table, doing a favor unknowingly.

"Jaskier, there you are! And Geralt. Can I call you Geralt?" Tymon asked nervously. He seemed to have a healthy amount of apprehension for the scowling Witcher.

Geralt gave a vague grunt, sliding one of the tankards on the table towards himself.

"Riiiight. Are you going to play soon, Jaskier? It's still quite early, we could start catching up. That drink is for you by the way," Tymon nodded at the last unclaimed one, deciding to ignore Geralt.

"Thanks," Jaskier said, taking the tankard.

Ale. Jaskier didn't want it. He hadn't drank since the feast. The last time he had been drunk was beyond disturbing and he was shying away from the idea of lowered inhibitions. He wasn't sure how much there even was to lower anymore. Close to nothing, probably.

Jaskier wasn't keen on finding what he'd end up doing.

"Are you going to be staying for long? I could add another day if you're going to be here. Otherwise I'd have left tomorrow afternoon," Tymon chatted. "Surprisingly a local bookstore had this rare book I've been hunting high and low. Never would have thought it'd be here. But an acquaintance of mine found it and sent a missive. I happened to be in the area, so here I am."

"Geralt has a hunt tomorrow," Jaskier mumbled, letting Tymon draw conclusions by himself. He didn't want to lie but he also didn't want to end up spending that much time with the fellow poet.

"You really accompany him on them, then? Not ask for the stories afterwards?"

"Mhmm."

"You are definitely a braver man than I!" Tymon laughed. "You couldn't pay me to get close. Sharing a table with a Witcher is quite enough."

"Tymon," Jaskier snapped at the casual insult.

"What? Oh! No offense meant."

Geralt gave another grunt, looking just as irked as before.

Jaskier kept running his fingers nervously along the wood of his lute. The familiar smooth surface was calming. He knew every grain. He heard Tymon continue talking but couldn't focus on it, letting it fall into a background noise. Jaskier wondered if this was what Geralt did to him. Used to.

Jaskier got up to deliver his usual intro before starting to play. It was easier than yesterday but Tymon was sure to notice the uncharacteristic nervousness that accompanied it and the first song. Jaskier wasn't looking forward to being questioned about it.

Or anything else.

As Jaskier had promised, he kept playing for hours, stopping only when it started to be after midnight. His fingertips were hurting again and his voice was about to turn scratchy. Jaskier could feel Geralt's disapproval as if it was a tangible thing pressing against him. But the Witcher had stayed silent, only kept sliding a mug of water towards him to clear his throat between songs.

Jaskier sat back down with a sigh after his customary bow, not looking forward to people coming up to him. This time he couldn't just escape upstairs, not with the way Tymon expected to him to keep company.

At least it'd mean better profit than yesterday.

Jaskier shuffled his chair closer to Geralt, hoping the Witcher's proximity would quell most of the people wanting to shake his hand or clap his shoulder.

Jaskier knew he was giving some kind of replies to the questions and well-wishes he received, automatically pocketing the coins offered but he truly had no idea what the words were. It was only as the last strangers left that he realized he had ended up pressing his back against Geralt's side in an attempt to get to safety, away from the few touches that had been heedless of the Witcher's presence and his own mounting panic.

Geralt hadn't let anyone touch him.

"Jaskier, what's wrong?" Tymon frowned at him. "You've been acting weird ever since we met. Almost fumbled the first song! Even look different."

"...We haven't seen in a year. Looks change," Jaskier tried, knowing very well it sounded as fake as it was.

"You? Cutting your hair short and uneven, letting it get greasy? Suddenly wearing your clothes, ill fitting at that, properly instead of trying to scandalize everyone with your immodesty?" Tymon accused. "You look like you haven't slept for a month!"

"...I've been sick…" it wasn't a lie. Also not the reason for any of that.

"Must have been one hell of an illness."

Jaskier felt Geralt shift. The Witcher was probably holding himself back from going for Tymon's throat.

"It was…" Jaskier mumbled. Getting drunk was starting to sound enticing. He couldn't stop picking at his nails.

"Jaskier," Geralt's low voice cut through with a warning. His hand was hovering over Jaskier's fingers, wanting to make him stop the nervous tick.

Tymon's eyes narrowed.

"Jaskier. Come with me to Oxenfurt. You don't have to stay with the Witcher, you're plenty talented to make it without chronicling his deeds. Getting away will give you some …perspective."

Jaskier could only blink in surprise.

"You're not beholden to him, Jaskier. Leave for a while. Come spend time with your friends. See if you still want this after a break."

"Tymon… Are you…? Do you think I'm in an abusive relationship with Geralt?" Jaskier asked incredulously. "Seriously?"

"Sure looks like it to me. You've been flinching from people looking panicked, while the Witcher acts all possessive of you. He even tried to stop you from talking about what's wrong just now!" Tymon was looking angry.

Jaskier was filled with fondness. Tymon was actually preparing to square up against Geralt because he thought that Jaskier needed his help. Even though he was obviously scared of the Witcher. The poet really was such a well-meaning fool.

"Tymon, you've got it wrong. We're not even in a relationship," Jaskier couldn't help the pang of regret over the fact.

"There's absolutely nothing violent or abusive going on between us." He refused to look behind him to see Geralt's reaction. It was enough to feel him tense.

Geralt had to be furious about such an accusation.

Jaskier shuffled a bit so he was even more in between the two, doing his best to shield his friend.

"Honestly. If anything, Geralt is far too kind and good to me. Doing his best to keep me safe," Jaskier tried to convince Tymon of the truth. "He'd never lift a hand against me."

"That's what they all say," Tymon rebutted stubbornly.

Jaskier couldn't help but give a brief chuckle. The situation was beyond absurd. Of all possible explanations, Tymon had arrived to _this_.

"I have no idea what to say to make you believe me. Except for telling you with all sincerity that Geralt is as far from abusive as one can get. Please, Tymon. Trust me," Jaskier beseeched.

He felt proud of Geralt's self-control. Jaskier could practically hear the Witcher grind his teeth to keep himself from exploding at Tymon. It definitely wouldn't help making the poet believe that he was safe with Geralt.

"Show me you don't have bruising," Tymon said seriously. "I'll believe you if you don't have any marks of it."

Jaskier was gripped by all encompassing trepidation.

"No."

"Jaskier! I just want to see your forearms. I'm not asking you to undress. Besides, we both know you'd be shameless enough to shrug your shirt off if I did. I've seen you do it."

"No."

Jaskier couldn't. He couldn't. He couldn't.

"Jaskier, please. I'm worried about you!"

"No!" Jaskier was vaguely aware of standing up so forcefully he was making his chair clatter to the floor.

He couldn't breathe. He was being asked to remove clothing. He would have to shrug his doublet off to be able to roll up his sleeves. He couldn't do it.

Not in front of anyone else than Geralt.

"No, no, no, no, no," he didn't want to. He didn't.

"What's happening? Jaskier?"

Tymon. That was Tymon. He sounded scared. And worried.

"Shut the fuck up and go to hell, you motherfucker!"

Geralt. He was livid.

"Jaskier. Can I touch you? To lead you back to our room?"

Jaskier could only nod. He didn't even know which way was up. He wouldn't be able to get there by himself. He wanted get away from here.

There was a gentle hand pressing between his shoulder blades, turning him to face the right direction.

"Can I help? Do anything?"

"Fuck off!"

Jaskier thought he was stumbling up the stairs. Maybe. Then there was a lock clicking shut and he lost last of his willpower and collapsed to the floor.

_"Let's make you more comfortable."_

Jaskier couldn't breath. His chest was so tight it hurt. His fingers were tingling. He couldn't breathe. Tears were streaming down his cheeks.

_"Let's make you more comfortable."_

_"I didn't take you for the modest type. You did offer to undress yesterday."_

He couldn't breathe.

There was nothing but Marden's touch and voice.

Jaskier was clad only in a towel that was miraculously still clinging to his hips.

Clothes were shoved at him.

Marden didn't turn around.

Jaskier could feel his eyes roving up and down his body.

It didn't help when he turned his back to the king, dressing faster than ever before in his life.

_"You'd be perfect without the scars."_

_"Tell me, do your bed partners comment on them? Bothered by the change? By the contrast of feel between your smooth skin and the roughness of the scar tissue?"_

Jaskier felt Marden's fingers trace the scars on his lower back.

He couldn't breathe.

He tried to ground himself by grabbing his hair and pulling on it. Let the pain distract him.

He couldn't breathe.

"Jaskier. Jaskier, you need to calm down."

Marden kept controlling him with the arm around his shoulders.

"You're safe. Completely safe. You don't have to do anything you don't want to. You're safe at the inn, in our room. There's just me with you."

Jaskier couldn't breathe.

"Jaskier, it's okay. You got away. It's been slightly over two weeks. You're safe. I'll keep you safe. It's just me with you. It's safe."

Jaskier took a strangled breath.

"That's it. In and out. In and out. Keep it slow. You're safe."

His breaths were getting easier.

Marden had fallen silent.

It was Geralt who was talking.

"...Ge…ralt…" Jaskier forced out.

"I'm here. I'm here."

"Geralt," Jaskier tried to reach for him, blinded by his own tears.

He needed an anchor. Something to hold on to. He needed to know he was safe.

"Do you want to hold my hand? Can I touch you?"

"Yes. Yes."

A familiar warm hand took his. Jaskier clutched it hard enough to hurt a normal human.

It was getting easier to breathe. For the reality to filter in.

Geralt was real. Safe. Would protect him. Safe.

Jaskier loved him. Had for a long time.

Geralt was home.

Geralt had hoped he wouldn't have to witness another flashback.

He should have known better.

Jaskier was getting better. Had taken some big steps in only few days. It didn't mean his triggers would magically disappear. Not even now when the bard was starting to have good days, be able to smile, to sing, to laugh again.

Fucking Tymon.

Accusing him of abusing Jaskier and causing the bard's flashback by demanding him to shed clothing, to show skin.

The man better hope Geralt would never see him again.

Geralt wanted to kill the poet. He wouldn't for Jaskier's sake. But would absolutely punch his fucking face in.

"Was I loud?" Jaskier mumbled, clutching Geralt's hand.

It took a moment to to figure out what the bard meant.

"No, not loud enough to be heard outside of our room," Geralt reassured him.

Of fucking course Jaskier would be fixated on that.

Why did he have to think about himself last? Placing unimportant things before his own well-being. Fuck outsiders. Jaskier should focus on recovering from the flashback. It had seemed like a bad one.

"Can you get up? Get to the bed?" It'd be more comfortable than the floor Jaskier was still laying on.

Jaskier didn't seem inclined to move yet.

"Okay, we can stay here for a while longer. Do you want something? Water?" Geralt was grasping at straws on how to help. "You need to drink."

"Mhmm."

"I'll get you some. You have to let go for a second. Can't reach it from here," he continued.

After one more desperate squeeze Jaskier let go and Geralt almost bolted to pour a mug.

"Sit up," he advised, offering the water. This was a good way to get Jaskier change positions. It would probably be better if he moved even a bit, feel some physical sensations that were real.

Sitting up and sipping the water did seem to calm Jaskier. He wasn't trembling as badly anymore. Geralt wished there was more he could do to help. He felt so fucking useless, not being able to do much more than witness. Just wait for Jaskier to pull himself back together again. Try to make the bard feel comfortable and safe afterwards.

"Ready to move to bed? I can help with your shoes," Geralt really didn't know what to think about sounding like a nursemaid.

Even stranger, he was completely sincere in his offer. Only few weeks ago he would have sneered at the mere idea.

Yet here he was.

Jaskier did fight his way to stand up on shaking legs and made his way to the bed. He looked beyond exhausted, face drawn and completely without any color.

"Jaskier? Can I remove your boots?"

"...Yeah…" it was nice hearing Jaskier's voice, even if it was quiet and weak.

It didn't take long for the bard to fall asleep, too tired for even his anxiety to keep him awake. With a worried sigh Geralt sat down next to the bed, determined to wake Jaskier before he could make any sounds due to the nightmares.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why did Tymon have to be so stubbornly concerned friend? ;w; But Maybe it'll sooth your soul when I say we're on a cusp of a new victory... I have a couple chapters as buffer so it's a 100% fact. Also, since there's a lack of fluff here, I'll link you one of the songs on my playlist since it's a very soft one. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7kfB0NLvVng
> 
> Johanna Kurkela's Rauha Rakkaani (Peace my love) It's in Finnish so here's the translated lyrics:
> 
> Brush  
> Brush your teeth  
> Just now you can not  
> Do anything else  
> Shower  
> Go to shower  
> And clean the bad day away  
> Sometimes we are  
> Hopeless  
> Gone through too much  
> Your breathless body  
> Just yearning for a rescuing dream
> 
> Peace my love, just sleep my love  
> I watch your sleep, I guard you  
> My treasure just go to sleep  
> There are no worries, I protect you  
> In the morning we'll talk again  
> Peace my love, just sleep my love  
> Just sleep  
> I guard you  
> Peace my love
> 
> Strong  
> Others can play strong  
> Those who can  
> Hide their sorrow  
> Remember  
> You must remember  
> You don't have to pretend with me
> 
> Peace my love, just sleep my love  
> I watch your sleep, I guard you  
> My treasure just go to sleep  
> There are no worries, I protect you  
> In the morning we'll talk again  
> Peace my love, just sleep my love  
> Just sleep  
> I guard you
> 
> Sometimes we are  
> Hopeless  
> Gone through too much  
> Your breathless body  
> Just yearning for a rescuing dream
> 
> Peace my love, just sleep my love  
> I watch your sleep, I guard you  
> My treasure just go to sleep  
> There are no worries, I protect you  
> In the morning we'll talk again  
> Peace my love, just sleep my love  
> Just sleep  
> I guard you  
> Peace my love  
> Peace my love, just sleep my love, sleep my love  
> I guard you  
> Peace my love


	42. Chapter 42

Jaskier didn't feel rested at all when he woke up in the morning. There was still lingering discomfort and exhaustion from the flashback, dragging him down.

But the frustration was the worst.

He was realizing only now just how good the past few days had been. Because the mood was gone. And now there was a harsh contrast. It felt like what little progress he had made had been swept away in a one fell swoop. He wanted to blame Tymon. He really did.

But he couldn't.

His friend had only been worried. And not without a cause, even if Tymon had jumped to a completely wrong conclusion. Jaskier knew he looked dreadful. It must have been jarring for Tymon to see him like this, not having witnessed the gradual fall from grace, not knowing the cause. Although, if Tymon did, then he would definitely be even more concerned than now.

Jaskier wondered if he should go see the poet. It felt wrong to let him leave with that clusterfuck as their last interaction. Jaskier was sure Tymon had mentioned where he was staying. He would just have to try recall it.

Letting Geralt close to the poet… That was a worrying thought. The Witcher had been furious with people he couldn't even prove having done anything. He had to be ready to kill Tymon. Or maim him. Sadly, Jaskier knew he wouldn't be able to make it by himself. He really wished he could.

"Jaskier, I'll go get us breakfast. Is that okay with you?" Geralt asked, drawing Jaskier out of his head.

Not having to go down among the people yet was an enticing idea.

"No, I'll come with you," Jaskier refused to let everything crumble down because of yesterday.

It had been one shitty fucking day but he was convinced that would describe majority of his life from now on anyway. Better to get on with it. He could just as well go feel horrible downstairs as he could here.

"Hmmm."

Jaskier couldn't decipher Geralt's expression. But the Witcher didn't discourage him.

Jaskier pushed his food around the plate, trying to gather the will to start talking. That too was harder again.

"Geralt, I need to go see Tymon," he finally said. "I can't let him leave like that."

"Like hell you do," Geralt grumbled.

"He only tried to help, really. It's not his fault for jumping to the wrong conclusion. I mean, look at me. I'm a mess, looking really different from before," Jaskier gestured at himself. "Tymon knew something was wrong the moment he saw me. He just waited to bring it up. Rather kind of him if you think about it. He didn't want to upset me before my performance. Or have the conversation out in the open on a busy street."

Geralt clearly didn't agree with the sentiment.

"Geralt, please. Come with me."

The Witcher ground his teeth together before slumping a fraction. "Fine."

"Thank you," Jaskier gave the tiniest smile to Geralt.

"Can we go now?" he continued, already getting up. "I don't know what time Tymon will leave. He might even decide to depart earlier than planned after yesterday."

With a disgruntled huff Geralt too stood up and started to lead Jaskier out of the inn as the bard gave the address. He was quite sure they had passed it during their hunt for the noticeboard.

Standing outside the residence Tymon was staying at, Jaskier realized that he had no idea what he would say or how to explain what had happened. There was no way he would give the actual truth. He didn't want people to know or have to talk about it.

Jaskier couldn't help but feel apprehensive of what Tymon would end up telling their mutual friends about this meeting after returning to Oxenfurt. It was impossible for him not to share his concerns or mention seeing him in general. And someone would be able to recognize the description for the flashback it had been. Or at least a panic attack. Jaskier wasn't looking forward to being a source of gossip, for people to try guess the reason.

Steeling himself, Jaskier knocked on the door.

And ended up backing away until he briefly collided with Geralt as an unfamiliar woman opened the door. He should have known that Tymon wouldn't be the one answering. The poet didn't actually live here.

"Yes?" the woman asked, looking suspicious.

"...Is Tymon here…?" Jaskier managed even if the words got almost stuck in his throat. "I'm a friend of his."

"Yes. Wait here," the woman informed them before closing the door to presumably go get him.

It was rather sensible thing to do when two strange men came knocking the first thing in the morning. It didn't take long for Tymon to arrive.

"Jaskier? Are you okay?" he asked before even greeting them, looking terribly worried. "What happened last night? Do you want to come inside?"

"No. Thank you," Jaskier swallowed. "I- I told you I've been …sick. It was, uh, connected to that. It's- I'm fine."

It was a miracle Geralt was staying still.

"Recovering. Geralt's been taking care of me," Jaskier continued quietly. "I just- just didn't want you to leave that as the last time we saw each other. Didn't mean to worry you, Tymon."

"Well, I am absolutely worried about you. I don't know what happened but it looked bad. I'm so sorry if I caused it," Tymon stated, shooting fearful glances at Geralt. "I can't suddenly stop being concerned, Jaskier. Just… promise me I really did have the wrong idea about you two yesterday."

"You did," all hesitation disappeared from Jaskier's voice. "Geralt isn't doing anything to hurt me."

Tymon was still looking a bit sceptical. "I'm glad."

"Thanks for coming to see me, Jaskier. Take care, you better not look half dead the next time I see you," he continued, stepping forward and opening his arms for a hug.

Jaskier could feel Geralt move to intercept Tymon, so he stepped purposefully in front of the Witcher and stuck his hand out for Tymon to shake. Geralt's way of stopping the poet would surely be far from acceptable. Tymon did look baffled at the far less personal farewell than he was used to, but changed his offered hug into a handshake.

Jaskier was afraid to breathe. His palm was sweating and trembling. He wanted to to run. He didn't last much longer than a second before snatching his hand back.

"By-bye," Jaskier wheezed, turning around and practically fleeing. He could hear Tymon's confused response.

Geralt was following him, matching each hurried step.

Jaskier whirled around a corner leading to a small ally and braced himself against a wall.

He felt like puking.

Like crying.

Jaskier did neither.

"Jaskier, you alright?" Geralt asked, standing close.

Jaskier couldn't answer yet.

"Deep breaths. Keep breathing, okay."

It was the only thing he could do for the next minute.

"Thanks," Jaskier whispered. "For coming along. Not killing Tymon."

"Hmmm," Geralt was looking at him with remnants of surprise on his face.

"What?"

"Jaskier, you shook his hand."

It was probably Jaskier's still cloudy head but Geralt sounded proud.

"...I did…" Jaskier stared back at the Witcher. "I did. Holy shit!"

Jaskier had to lift his right hand to look at it. It didn't burn. It didn't hurt. It didn't feel much like anything. He was still highly uncomfortable and anxious but starting to get those too under control.

"Geralt…!" Jaskier gave a small laugh full of wonder at the realization.

He had been able to handle, sort of at least, someone else touching him than Geralt. Hadn't hidden behind the Witcher to avoid it. It would have been easy, he wouldn't have had to even move. He had decided how it'd happen. Decided to let it happen. And Tymon had respected it. Without a question or pause.

He had had control over the interaction. His friend hadn't thought anything about letting him decide, didn't find it even strange. Jaskier was having hard time wrapping his head around it all.

"I didn't ruin everything…" Jaskier mumbled to himself.

"Ruined what?" of course Geralt could hear it.

"Me. I- it felt like I was back where I started. After yesterday. The panic attack. The flashback. Like I had destroyed everything I had managed to build," admitting things was still terribly difficult. But Geralt deserved the answers.

Jaskier was also starting to think talking might be helping after all. It just didn't feel like it when he did so. But he had started to slowly feel lighter after starting to open up.

Oh. Geralt really was right.

Things were getting better.

"Can I hug you?" Jaskier asked hopefully.

"Yes."

"Thank you. For believing in me," Jaskier whispered as he wound his arms around Geralt's shoulders. "For all the help."

He could feel Geralt smile.

"Of course."

How could the Witcher say that like it was a simple fact? Like saying the sky was blue.

Jaskier wished he could hold on to Geralt for longer. But the few seconds it had taken to exchange the words was as much as he could handle.

Geralt refused to admit even to himself that he was slightly grateful to Tymon. That man was a motherfucker and Geralt hadn't forgiven him in the least for what he had done to Jaskier. It was a miracle he had been able to keep himself from punching the poet.

But meeting a friend, even if they weren't close, had done Jaskier good in the end. Maybe it had reminded him that there were other people he could trust, who wanted to help, not hurt. Even though fucking Tymon managed to miss the mark. Asshole. Geralt was still seething from the accusation of abusing Jaskier. It was a good thing in more than one sense that the bard had blocked the path. Tymon would otherwise be sporting a broken arm and less teeth.

Geralt didn't feel the slightest twinge of guilt over the fact.

"Let's get back," Geralt said, looking Jaskier over once more to make sure his breathing had calmed down and the bard wasn't panicked anymore before leading the way.

"Okay."

"I'll take care of the drowners today. Won't take long, just a couple of hours."

"I know."

"I'll go get the reward too. Then it's all taken care of."

"Geralt, I know how it works," Jaskier interrupted with a fond look on his face. "I'll be fine."

He kept saying that. Hadn't been the truth yet. Geralt wasn't looking forward to coming back to Jaskier having a panic attack.

But he couldn't not leave.

"Jaskier, take it easy while I'm gone. Don't try something new. Get some rest," Geralt didn't care if he sounded overprotective.

Jaskier had already taken on a new hurdle. And while the bard probably would ignore it, yesterday had to be still affecting him. The attacks weren't something to just have and be done with right afterwards. Better for him to take time to unwind again. Geralt didn't want Jaskier to push himself to a breaking point. Again.

Jaskier was fucking good at that.

"Yes, yes. Go kill monsters. Bring money home," Jaskier didn't reach the levity he was aiming for, eyes full of apprehension.

"Later," it was almost physical pain as Geralt stepped out of their room, leaving Jaskier behind. He had to take a deep breath before marching to the stable to get Roach ready.

"Let's be fast, girl. Jaskier is waiting for us to come back," Geralt murmured to Roach as he mounted her.

In response Roach pranced in place before Geralt let her start walking. The Witcher wanted to allow her to canter right from the start like the mare was eager to do. It took surprising amount of self-control to make sure to warm her up properly before letting her carry them swiftly towards the lake.

Geralt was satisfied to see there weren't any new blood splatters or drag marks leading to the water. People had been sensible enough to avoid the place.

Time to draw the drowners to him.

Geralt waived his hand through the lake water to both disturb it and let the drowners sense the warm flesh intruding their habitat. Retreating slightly farther from the waterline, Geralt pulled his glove back on, drew his sword, and waited. It took only seconds for the first ones to emerge, hungry mouths and hands reaching for him.

Drowners were simple foes to dispatch as long as he avoided getting surrounded. His sword slashed with precision and knocking the drowners down with the Aard sign let him easily kill them with single stabs.

It was almost routine.

Grabbing a corpse for proof of the job done, he returned to Roach and started the journey back. It had been satisfying to be able to let out the building aggression and frustration in a productive manner. Better to let it loose on a bunch of monsters than Jaskier. Or bystanders.

Like always, he drew stares and caused fearful whispers as he rode through the streets to reach the magistrate. Taking the dead drowner with him, Geralt marched inside. The man behind the desk almost jumped out of his chair in fright when Geralt arrived.

"There's a reward for killing the drowners," Geralt stated, dropping the corpse unceremoniously to the floor.

"Uh, umm, yes, yes there is. A reward, yes," the man babbled scared of the Witcher. "There's one. A reward. Money. For the monsters. Indeed."

"Fetch it," Geralt was in no mood to wait for the man to get over his shock.

"Yes!"

Geralt simply exited the magistrate the moment he got the full purse, leaving the drowner behind.

Wasn't his problem anymore.

Geralt took care of Roach as fast as he possibly could, giving his thanks for the mare's good work. He'd find carrots to bring her later. She more than deserved them.

It was quiet behind their door when he arrived. Geralt knew it didn't tell much about how Jaskier was faring. Hopefully better than last time. He was sick and tired of coming back to the bard unraveling before his eyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier, I'm so proud of you!


	43. Chapter 43

Jaskier was at a loss for what to do after Geralt had left for the hunt. The far too familiar itch of anxiety started to make itself known but he was determined to ignore it. Do his best at least. He hated being this dependent on the Witcher. Starting to lose his ability to function when Geralt wasn't with him. It was among the worst things he was going through, the loss of independence. The fear of facing anything alone, the fear of being taken advantage of without Geralt.

It was maddening.

He knew it was a ridiculous thing to be afraid.

He had been doing just fine before Marden. It wasn't as if the world had suddenly changed. But it was difficult to make himself believe it when his body kept sending signals of danger and his mind went back to the past fear. There were so many things he rationally knew were harmless yet made him terrified.

Like a fucking bathtub.

Jaskier really wanted to be able to bathe. Not that he would go and try to take one. Last time had been a total catastrophe.

Maybe he should ask Geralt to come with him later. Not to take an actual bath. The mere idea of someone else, even Geralt, in the room while he bathed was making his breath hitch. But to help him try to get at least close to the tub. Even that had been too much. And the Witcher could just use it afterwards so the warm water wouldn't go to waste.

Jaskier realized his pulse was starting to race. Time to change focus.

He couldn't stop pacing.

There was again a ghost of a touch massaging soap into his hair.

Jaskier wanted to scream.

He didn't.

Just turned on his heels and paced to the opposite direction.

He needed to ignore it. The sensation wasn't real. There was no one touching him. Jaskier just needed to divert his attention to something else. Make sure he knew where and when he was. Geralt wasn't here to talk him through it. He needed to figure something else out. The floor was solid under his feet. His boots made a sound. He wasn't naked, could worry his sleeves, feel the fabric. There wasn't anyone in the room with him. No places to even hide. He was safe. Jaskier had lost too much time to be sure but Geralt had told him it had been just over two weeks.

Those hands weren't real. They weren't.

Marden was dead.

He was safe. Even if Geralt wasn't here. He was safe. Had to be. Geralt wouldn't have left him otherwise. He was safe. He was. He was.

Jaskier wasn't sure at all about it.

But maybe he could pretend.

Pretend until he would be able to believe.

One day.

Jaskier braced himself against the table and took deep, measured, breaths, paying attention to each one. It helped a bit.

He still felt like crying.

Jaskier hugged himself, wishing he could hold himself together by doing so.

It was a poor imitation. He wanted to be held. Have Geralt's arms around him, reassuring he was safe, that he wasn't broken and things would get better. Feel loved. Jaskier knew it was a foolish wish. Geralt might indulge him but the Witcher didn't love him. And he wouldn't even be able to be hugged, not without drowning in panic.

The knowledge hurt.

Jaskier had hard time recalling a time when he didn't hurt. It felt too encompassing.

He stayed like that for a long time before realizing he needed to step out of the room for a bit. Fucking call of nature. He wasn't sure if he was safe here. He knew he wasn't safe outside.

There wasn't any danger waiting. But he wasn't safe. Things always went wrong when he wandered alone. People didn't think twice about approaching or even touching him. There was something strange about how they viewed him differently from others just because of his profession. Like he didn't have the same boundaries, like he was supposed to be entertaining even outside of the performances. Act like everyone was his good friend, fall naturally in the casual camaraderie with strangers.

Jaskier had welcomed it before.

Now it only filled him with trepidation.

He did his best not to feel like he was just a singing doll to people. Or for sale. To do with as they pleased after tossing a coin or two.

Jaskier thunked his forehead against the door, gathering himself before stepping out. The hallway was empty. Hopefully he would be able to avoid people in general, not have to engage. Jaskier knew it was an impossible wish. The tavern wouldn't be empty.

His luck did hold until he was hurrying through it to get back upstairs.

"Hi, Jaskier!" Alisa greeted him, cleaning a nearby table.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Jaskier wasn't in mood for any interaction. He just wanted to get back to the room. Possibly take a nap, he was feeling lethargic and fragile. Losing awareness of the reality sounded tempting. Probably impossible while alone. But tempting.

Jaskier couldn't do more than wave at her and shake his head as Alisa started approaching.

It was a major miracle when she just smiled, bid him goodbye and moved to clear the next table.

Locking the door behind him Jaskier let out a relieved sob. It had been fine. Nothing had happened. Nothing went wrong. Alisa had even followed his cue and let him go without a fuss. Not demanding anything. No one had wanted anything from him. Relief was making his legs weak. There were tears stinging his eyes but not falling.

He had been alright.

Alone.

Geralt hadn't been with him yet he had been okay.

It had went fine. And now he was behind a locked door again. Strangers wouldn't be able to get to him.

He had managed it.

Jaskier gave a wet little laugh as he stumbled to the bed with shaking legs. He had been so scared and now the relief was making him feel faint, spread thin, weak. Tugging his boots off Jaskier curled underneath the covers, letting the warm weight ground himself. He didn't want to move anywhere. He would just lay here and wait for Geralt to return.

Hopefully Geralt would get here soon. It was getting hard to swallow tears.

Geralt was worried when he spotted Jaskier curled underneath the blanket. At least the bard wasn't hiding under it, instead lifted his head to look at him, seeming lucid.

"How are you, Jaskier?" Geralt asked, approaching the bed. He wanted to be able to get a clear look.

"Fine," Jaskier whispered.

The weakness in his voice made Geralt frown. It felt like a warning sign. "Did something happen?"

A shake of head. "No."

Geralt kneeled by the bard, taking stock. Jaskier was pale and red eyed, blinking tears away. But calmer than he had expected.

"Be honest."

"I am. Nothing happened," Jaskier said. " _Nothing_ , Geralt. I was okay."

"That's… good. Really good," Geralt was surprised. He hadn't dared to hope the bard would actually be alright after being alone. Their "okay" had probably big differences but Jaskier did appear unharmed.

"Yeah," Jaskier gave him a tired smile, even though some of the tears escaped. "It is. I even had to step out. And nothing happened."

Geralt didn't try to keep an answering smile from forming. "Great."

"Did the hunt go well? Are you hurt?"

And there Jaskier went again, worrying about others.

"It was easy, didn't get even a scratch," Geralt reassured the bard, making the sudden frown disappear.

"I'm glad," Jaskier mumbled, closing his eyes. "Is it alright if I try to sleep?"

"Go for it," a good idea. Jaskier looked exhausted.

Geralt got up for just long enough to shed his armor before sitting back down, leaning against the bed to keep company. Taking his sword out he started to clean it, listening to Jaskier's slowing breaths. The bard really had fallen asleep and quickly at that.

Geralt had time to meditate for two hours or so before restless movements and small noises roused him. Another fucking nightmare. It made him wish it was possible to physically fight dreams.

Since it wasn't, Geralt had to just use his words. "Hey, Jaskier. Wake up. You're having a nightmare."

The bard woke up with a gasp, scrambling until he was sitting upright. Chest heaving, Jaskier ran hands over his face before focusing on Geralt.

"Hi."

Geralt just stared at him. Jaskier's habit of giving little greetings to declare being mentally present was both ridiculous and endearing in equal measures.

"Geralt, I was thinking and… could you order a bath?"

What the hell?

"I… I'd like to try… try to get close to the tub. And I can't- can't do it alone," Jaskier was staring at his lap, worrying the blanket. "It's so stupid, to be this frightened of an inanimate object."

Hearing Jaskier once again invalidate his own fears made Geralt clench his jaw. Why couldn't the bard see he was having perfectly normal reactions to the trauma he had been subjected to? It was infuriating.

"Okay," Geralt said after a long pause.

He was apprehensive about the idea but knowing Jaskier, the bard would eventually try again with or without help.

Standing behind Geralt and in front of the door leading to the bath, Jaskier was starting to have second thoughts about how wise this was. His anxiety was already spiking. But it had been a good day, he could do this.

"Are you sure?" Geralt asked, resting a hand on the doorknob.

The Witcher could probably smell his fear and hear his racing heart.

"...Yeah… Can I hold your hand?" Jaskier mumbled quietly. Having Geralt's hand grounding him should help.

Geralt simply offered one and waited for Jaskier to take it before opening the door and stepping into the room. Not wanting to lose the connection Jaskier followed the Witcher, hiding behind his back.

Jaskier wasn't sure at all anymore.

Maybe this was too much.

Geralt stopped right after they both had crossed the threshold. Jaskier appreciated that he was letting him decide the speed instead of walking to the bathtub straight away. Jaskier tightened his grip and took a sidestep to stand at Geralt's side. Seeing the tub was sending shivers down his spine. But Geralt's presence was steadying and his hand warm. Jaskier was fine for now.

It was just a wooden object and warm water.

He needed to stop acting like this.

Jaskier took few small steps forward. There was cold sweat on his brow.

"Jaskier. It's safe. You're safe," Geralt's voice startled Jaskier. He had started to forget the Witcher was with him.

"...Ye-yeah…"

It was safe. Just a bathtub. Nothing that could hurt him. His rapidly beating heart wasn't agreeing.

Jaskier pressed himself against Geralt's side after asking for permission, letting the contact ground him more. He felt slightly better like this.

Geralt was like a safe haven in a storm.

Jaskier continued a little bit forward. Geralt was being incredibly patient with the slow pace. It had to be vexing.

"It's okay. We're at the inn. I'm here with you, Jaskier," Geralt was starting to talk, try to help the only way he knew. "You're safe."

Jaskier had to focus on keeping his breathing somewhat even. It was hard. He knew the bath was harmless. He was terrified by it.

"Jaskier, answer me."

Geralt had probably repeated something a few times.

"...Still here…" Jaskier was surprised he could form actual words. He had no idea if that answered Geralt's question. He hadn't heard it.

"Good. You're doing good, Jaskier. Remember you're safe and at the inn. With me. You're safe."

Jaskier was glad for the reassurances. He didn't feel safe.

The tub was close enough to touch.

He didn't reach out.

Geralt's voice was helping to cover Marden's words that were threatening to emerge.

It was hard to breathe.

He was shaking.

"Jaskier, do you want to leave?"

"...No…"

Jaskier turned his face so he could bury it in Geralt's shoulder. He needed a short reprieve, to not look.

Geralt was so familiar.

"Jaskier, we can go. Any time. The moment you want. You're not locked in. You're safe."

"...I know…" Jaskier knew where he was.

Not with Marden.

There was water pouring over his head.

He looked back at the bathtub. It was exactly the same as before. Jaskier wasn't sure why he had expected something to have changed. He was blinking tears away.

Jaskier reached out to touch the tub. It felt like… wood. Just wood.

It was hard to breathe.

There were hands washing his hair.

"...Ge-Geralt.." it was almost a prayer. Jaskier just didn't know what for.

"Jaskier, that's enough. You did great. Let's go back. You're safe. It's safe. It's over. You're safe. Let's go back to our room now."

Jaskier could feel a gentle tug, encouraging him to turn around and start walking. It was hard to breathe. He couldn't stop staring at the tub. His vision wasn't very good. It was filled with tears.

"Jaskier, come. Let's go. You did great. Time to leave."

Jaskier finally let himself be led away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Plot twist, Jaskier had -sort of- uneventful time alone!
> 
> See ya on Monday! ❤️


	44. Chapter 44

Geralt hoped he hadn't waited too long until removing Jaskier from the situation. As much as Geralt tried to sound like it for Jaskier's sake, he didn't actually have a good grasp on what to do.

He started to hurry the bard back to their room where he could calm down, positioning himself between Jaskier and the curious onlookers. Geralt practically snarled at Alisa the moment she took a step towards them, making clear to everyone they better stay the fuck away. It was a relief when he was able to guide Jaskier to sit on the bed.

The bard was crying and gasping for air while trying to stifle every sound behind his palms.

Jaskier had taken the warning seriously. Too seriously. He seemed to be afraid of making any noises of distress. It wasn't even night.

Those complainers deserved to rot in hell.

"Jaskier, you need to remove your hands from your mouth. You have to be able to breathe normally," Geralt advised. "Jaskier, listen to me."

Jaskier let his hands fall to clutch at his doublet's front, a whimper escaping his lips.

The small sound stabbed straight through Geralt's heart, making it ache even more.

"That's it. Deep breaths. In and out," the words had turned into a familiar mantra. "In and out, deep and slow. Jaskier, do you want to feel my breathing? To try to match it?"

Jaskier was still unable to speak, panic and tears stealing his voice but he did nod and reach out a hand.

"I'm going to take your hand now. Jaskier? Is that okay?" Geralt asked, waiting for a response before guiding Jaskier to place a hand on his chest to feel the even movements. "Try to match it. Focus on my breathing Jaskier, in and out. It's just us here. You're safe. I'm here. Nothing will hurt you. You're safe."

Bit by bit Jaskier started to calm down, be able to take deeper breaths. His hand splayed against Geralt's chest tangled itself into the Witcher's shirt.

"...Hi…" Jaskier managed to whisper, still not lifting his head to face Geralt.

"What do you need?" Geralt wanted to know how to help. "Tell me."

A shrug.

"Anything, Jaskier. Anything," there had to be something he could do.

The tangled hand twisted tighter. "...Can… can I… lean on you…?"

"Yes."

That was all Geralt hoped Jaskier to, literally and figuratively, do.

With a shuddering exhale Jaskier leaned forward until he could rest his forehead against Geralt's shoulder, mumbling his thanks. Geralt could feel the small shivers running through the bard, the slightly too fast pulse and the still strained breaths. He wanted to wrap Jaskier in an embrace. Chace every fear away.

"...That went better than I expected…" Jaskier murmured into Geralt's shirt, last of his tears dampening it.

"Fuck, Jaskier. What the hell did you think you were doing if that was a good reaction in your opinion?" Geralt wanted to snap. He only sounded tired. "Why the fuck did you want to do it?"

"Mmmm. I miss baths."

"And that's why you torture yourself?"

"...I'm not torturing myself, Geralt. I just want this to be over."

Geralt wished there was a way to beat some sense into the bard. Jaskier needed to get it through his thick head that he couldn't just force himself to immediately bounce back.

"Jaskier, you're a fucking idiot," Geralt grumbled, fists clenching against his thighs to keep himself from hugging the bard.

Jaskier drew back with a surprised inhale at the words, moving away from the Witcher.

"Should I want to stay like this, then?" his tone was cold. "Be happy with being a complete wreck and constantly breaking apart? Rejoice in the way I drag everyone down? Feel exhilarated about the fact that I'm fucking frightened of everything, myself included?"

"What?" Geralt asked stunned. "The fuck?"

"Sure, I'll just continue on like this. I'll definitely have a long and happy life."

"Jaskier?"

The bard shook his head, flexing fingers nervously.

"What the hell do you think I said? Because I have no fucking idea what you just heard, Jaskier."

"I can't keep going on like this, Geralt," Jaskier mumbled, rubbing his tear tracks away. "I'm so fucking exhausted. I need… I don't know what I need. But something has to change."

"It is. You're getting-" Geralt didn't have time to finish.

"I know!"

"I know I'm making progress. You keep telling me. I can even kind of see it. I just don't feel it. And when I do, it's so fleeting I forget it the moment something is hard again. And that's everything. I'm so tired of this," Jaskier said, letting his head fall against the wall. "So fucking tired. I just wish I had something concrete to hold on to."

"You do," Geralt offered his hand again, startling a laugh from Jaskier.

It was a genuine little thing, lighting the room up.

"Geralt, oh, Geralt. Have you any idea what you're doing?" Jaskier shook his head, looking fond.

No, Geralt didn't have many ideas how to help or act. But it did warm him when Jaskier took his hand, intertwining their fingers. "Of course."

Jaskier just gave another laugh, this one more melancholic than the previous. Geralt didn't like the change.

Jaskier wondered if Geralt was trying to literally kill him with kindness. It was working. His heart hurt terribly. Jaskier wanted to confess just how irreversibly in love he was.

But he couldn't.

Geralt wouldn't want to hear it nor would he reciprocate. It was easier for both of them to leave everything unsaid. Jaskier had lived with these feelings locked inside this long, he would just continue to do so. Let everything stay as it was between them. So much had already changed.

Jaskier didn't understand where Geralt found the patience or the willingness to keep helping him. There were better, far more pleasant, ways for Geralt to spend his time. Yet this, him, was what Geralt had chosen, kept choosing, to quote the Witcher himself. It was almost scary, starting to realize that he really had to mean something to Geralt, even if the Witcher still hadn't even called them friends outloud. Jaskier had known it but still… The confirmation kept sparking hope in Jaskier's foolish, foolish, poet's heart, making him wonder if one day he could be honest about his feelings with Geralt.

Except… Jaskier knew that he wouldn't be able to start a relationship even if Geralt would kneel down and profess his undying love right now. He'd just doom what little chance they had if he said yes.

The stress, no matter how sweet the flavor, of a new relationship or shifting through all the emotions he kept suppressing would be too much. Jaskier was sure he would be swept away the moment he was allowed to show his love. There were so many things, big and small both, that he had buried away so he wouldn't accidentally tell Geralt. And now he would only be able to tell. Not act on them, not let Geralt act on his. Jaskier wasn't going to enter a relationship when he couldn't be hugged. Couldn't even entertain the idea of kissing and definitely not having sex. Not as anything more than a fleeting fantasy when Geralt pursed his lips just so, making them look so kissable it should be illegal.

But as something to actually do? No. Jaskier knew he couldn't. Not now. Not yet. One day. And Geralt wouldn't do or try anything without him telling the Witcher it would be fine. Geralt wouldn't take silence as a yes nor would he be able to keep asking permission for every little thing. It would just frustrate them both.

Although, all the worrying about it was useless. Jaskier was more than aware that Geralt wasn't bidding his time for a chance to whisper love confessions or sweet nothings.

Jaskier wished Geralt was just waiting for him to get back to a place where he could say yes.

He knew the truth.

But like the hopeless romantic he was, it didn't stop the wishing.

"Is it still too early to go down?" Jaskier asked to break the silence and shelve the previous thoughts away. "Get something to eat before I play?"

He wasn't actually hungry, but it'd be something normal to do. And it was disturbing how loose all his clothes were. Not waiting for a response, Jaskier let go of Geralt's hand and got up to straighten his attire. He was sure his doublet was creased beyond salvaging by now but he couldn't find it in himself to care.

"Hmmm."

"You don't have to dress up for dinner, Geralt," Jaskier teased as the Witcher started to put his armor on.

Geralt only shot him an unamused look and finished securing last of the buckles.

"I'm paying," Jaskier stated as he walked behind Geralt downstairs, keeping so close to the Witcher's back that they almost touched, and nervously fidgeted with his lute's strap.

Jaskier wanted to press against Geralt as he realized the innkeeper was manning the counter. His arm gave a twinge at the memory of their last interaction. At least he wouldn't have to go find the man later on. Could take care of everything now. The innkeeper looked already both apprehensive and irritated. It didn't make things easier.

"...Evening. Was yesterday's performance good enough?" Jaskier honestly had no idea how his far from graceful exit had been taken. Except that it hadn't been enough to get them immediately kicked out.

The innkeeper pursed his lips and glanced at Geralt. "Yes. Play like that and you can have the room for free. But avoid any new disturbances."

Jaskier subtly shifted to stand more in front of Geralt than next to him. The Witcher was tensing up in a warning manner.

"...Thank you. I- I'll do my best not to bother anyone," words felt sticky in Jaskier's mouth.

Geralt was here with him. And there was the counter separating them from the innkeeper. Jaskier knew the man wouldn't be able to grab him again. He could feel the pressure around his bicep. But he was safe. He was.

"C-could we get dinner?" Jaskier hated how the first word was accompanied by a stutter as he placed coins on the bar.

Jaskier could feel stares follow them as they took seat at a central table. He knew even while actively trying to block the words out and without looking around that they had become focus of many a conversation. He wondered how many of the patrons had been here earlier today or yesterday to see his breakdowns.

"What?" Geralt grumbled unkindly, making Jaskier lift his gaze from his mug.

"Do you want another round of drinks?" Alisa answered from a safe distance, shielding herself with an empty tray. "Or can I do something else to help?"

"Hi, Alisa," Jaskier said, shooting a reproachful look at Geralt. They liked her. Geralt should remember it. "It's fine. Just ordered."

"You sure there's nothing?"

Jaskier wondered if Alisa had been here to witness the walk back from the bath.

"Yeah. Thanks."

"Okay. Hail me if you think of something," Alisa gave Jaskier a searching look before turning away to continue her rounds.

"Geralt, you realize Alisa isn't a threat, right? You can stop imagining ways to kill her," Jaskier muttered.

"Hm."

Maybe it was enough that Geralt only thought of the ways instead of trying them out. It was better than the alternative.

It was getting harder to ignore the gossip going on around them. Bits and pieces kept drawing his attention, people murmuring to each other about a Witcher and his hapless bard. For once Jaskier would have loved Geralt to have the spotlight in those conversations.

And why did he have to be referred to as Geralt's? Why did he have to be someone's? Couldn't he simply exists without a condition, without being bound to someone else?

"Yeah, saw him yesterday too. Sings like a songbird and cries more than my daughters put together."

Geralt knew Jaskier had heard that.

The bard had flinched hard enough to spill water and was now staring very resolutely at the table, not moving at all. If fingers drumming a staccato against the rim of his mug didn't count.

The asshole kept talking.

Geralt was done.

He stood and walked up to the bastard still spewing words. It was satisfying how the man shut up just from that.

"What do you want? Get lost."

Ah. Well then.

Geralt slammed his fist on the table, inches from where the asshole's hand was resting, making the cutlery rattle.

"Shut the fuck up," Geralt barked.

"Geralt!" Jaskier exclaimed aghast, appearing by his elbow. "Let's go back to our table, come on."

"What the hell's your problem?" the asshole asked angrily, standing up and rest of his company followed suit.

Jaskier gave a small peep and shuffled backwards.

Rest of the tavern had fallen silent.

"Mind your own fucking business," Geralt warned, itching to draw a blade. He was done people harming Jaskier, be it by words or actions.

"Did I hurt your bitch's feelin-"

The asshole didn't get a chance to finish as Geralt slammed his head against the table. There was a satisfying crunch and a howl of pain.

"Geralt, no!"

"Fuck!"

"Francis! Are you alright?!"

"You motherfucking mutant!"

"Stop! Stop right now! No fighting in my inn!"

There was chaos ensuing and Geralt was taking grim pleasure from having finally a chance to _do something_ about people hurting Jaskier. A friend of the asshole's who had tried to advance doubled over from a punch to his solar plexus, wheezing for air.

"Geralt, stop!"

Geralt prepared to take down the next bastard.

"Out! Out! Right now! Get your things and leave!" the innkeeper bellowed and grabbed Jaskier's arm to turn him around, making all color drain from the bard's face. "I told you! One more commotion! Get out!"

Before Geralt could take even a step towards them, Jaskier suddenly decked the innkeeper hard enough to make him fall to the floor. And stomped down. Landing his heel right between the man's legs, eliciting a high pitched scream of agony.

Huh.

Geralt could only lift his brows in surprise at the uncharacteristically violent display. Apparently he wasn't the only one with pent up aggression.

It was nice seeing Jaskier defend himself.

"Jaskier! Time to get the hell out of here!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, Geralt's inevitable explosion happened.
> 
> And Jaskier tries to think like a responsible adult who knows what he needs from a relationship. Too bad the poor bard doesn't know Geralt is, indeed, just waiting. For both him and to get a clue that the feeling is mutual. :'D


	45. Chapter 45

They were both panting from their hasty retreat when they stopped at the glade, Roach looking pleased being out and about.

"What. The fuck. Was that?" Jaskier asked blankly.

"A bar fight," Geralt answered. The bard looked still slightly shocked.

"I know that. You. I meant you."

Geralt just shrugged, rolling their bedding out.

"Geralt! I asked you not do something like that," Jaskier stared straight at him, looking incredibly guilty. "I told you. I told you I'm not worth the trouble."

"Like hell you're not," Geralt grumbled. "They were being bastards, talking shit like that. Had it coming."

"You can't start fighting everyone who's rude to me. They were just words. Nothing- nothing hurtful," the hitch in Jaskier's voice belied his feelings. "It's not like they were that far from the truth."

Geralt rounded on Jaskier. "Stop putting yourself down! You're not suddenly broken or worthless or whatever the fuck you think about yourself. Have you no fucking idea how amazing you are? Piecing yourself back together like you're doing? It's only the seventeenth day, Jaskier. Seventeenth!"

"...What…?" Jaskier's mouth was literally hanging open as he tried to think of a response.

" I said-!" Geralt realized what he had said.

Fuck.

That wasn't the description he meant to use.

"...What I said," he turned his back to Jaskier and fussed with the bedrolls.

"Geralt…?"

Geralt did not want to continue this conversation. He didn't want to explain his word choice. Didn't want to give any more accidental hints on how he felt about the bard. He would not make Jaskier uncomfortable, make him think he expected something Jaskier couldn't nor wanted to give.

"Geralt? Talk to me," Jaskier walked to stand in front of him, eyes beseeching.

Geralt stayed silent and went to rummage through the saddlebags still laying next to Roach. He could hear Jaskier give a defeated sigh and sit down. It was relieving that the bard was too drained to keep pursuing the topic after the clear dismissal.

It shouldn't be. At all.

Geralt felt callous for taking advantage of how hard Jaskier's day had been. The bard had to be right at the brink of collapsing even if he was still hanging in there. Glance at him confirmed the thought. Jaskier was sitting on his bedroll, drooping so heavily Geralt was surprised he hadn't keeled over. The adrenaline of the fight and their resulting flight from the inn was definitely leaving his system.

Grabbing ingredients for the dinner since they hadn't had time to even receive their orders, Geralt returned to Jaskier's side and started preparing it. They'd need to stop by the market tomorrow to replenish the stock. Maybe buy some fresh produce too.

Jaskier finally gave in and laid down, letting his eyes drift closed.

Good. He needed the rest.

"I'm disappointed in you," Jaskier's quiet voice interrupted Geralt's planning.

"I specifically asked, begged, you not to go after people for my sake. Yet you did. The very next day, Geralt. And for what? Overhearing a rude remark. I know I'm dead weight, demand a lot from you just to stay halfway functional, but I try my best not to ask for too much. I really do."

"And you ignored this one plea, Geralt. Which I made not just for my sake but also because I know you'll regret attacking people once you've calmed down. I know you don't really like hurting humans. You do it when necessary but this wasn't. And you know it."

That Jaskier hadn't even opened his eyes to look at him hit Geralt harder than the words themselves. The bard was hurt by what he had done earlier.

"You didn't seem to have a problem with violence when you practically castrated the innkeeper," Geralt knew he was saying the wrong thing even as his lips formed the words.

"I blanked out," Jaskier sounded pained and terribly guilty. "I wish I hadn't done it."

"I'm glad you defended yourself."

"I'm not, not when it wasn't intentional. I just… reacted on a reflex. I don't want to hurt people without realizing. It wasn't a choice, Geralt."

Jaskier's voice grew even smaller. "Things like that are what make me scared of myself. Acting before I'm aware of doing it, not being in control. I can take it as long as it's aimed at myself but to do something to others unintentionally…"

"Jaskier…" Geralt didn't know what to say.

It was shitty but he didn't regret smashing the asshole's face in. At all. Jaskier was right, normally Geralt probably would have some regrets about his actions, harming people without a need. But he couldn't help the protective anger that flared up whenever someone hurt Jaskier or threatened his well-being in any way. The bard had gone through too much already. And Geralt hadn't been there to protect him, to prevent it.

He wasn't going to let it happen again.

It was why he hadn't nor could promise not to act as he had. He needed to keep Jaskier safe.

Geralt's only regret was having hurt Jaskier. And getting them kicked out.

"Let me be for now," Jaskier sighed, curling slightly under his blanket. "Please."

Geralt let his actions show his agreement.

Jaskier wondered if there would come a day when he wouldn't be absolutely exhausted by the end of it. It felt so unlikely. At least Geralt was honoring his request and didn't try to interact with him. Not that it was a hardship for the Witcher.

Jaskier was done with the day. So fucking done and tired.

And guilty.

He never had wanted the innkeeper to get hurt. Or the men who had had been just talking to each other. It was as if he brought misfortune with him. Scaring and worrying Alisa, disturbing other residents with his outbursts and now this. The worst was all the shit he made Geralt continuously suffer.

Jaskier felt like a fucking plague.

Yet there was a part of him that was absolutely delighted, reveling, about having stood up for himself, regardless of the excessive force used. There hadn't been any horrible consequences for doing so. He hadn't gotten hurt. Geralt hadn't gotten hurt. No one threatened them with violence in order to force them to stay and pay for their actions.

"Food's ready," Geralt said, deeming it important enough to disturb Jaskier.

"Can't."

"Sit up and eat."

"Geralt, I literally can't," Jaskier mumbled. "Not if I don't want to see it again right after."

He was feeling far too ill. Even the smell was turning his stomach.

"At least try," Geralt ordered.

In response Jaskier turned his back to the Witcher, staying silent. He didn't want to argue.

"Jaskier."

A pause.

"Jaskier?"

Jaskier kept breathing, hoping to fall asleep.

Geralt gave a frustrated sigh and started to eat. A relief. The Witcher was plenty stubborn, could easily have kept pursuing it.

The quiet sounds of the glade and surrounding forest were calming, letting Jaskier's overwrought nerves start relaxing. His exhaustion kept dragging him closer to sleep. It was safe to do so. Geralt would make sure of it, even if Jaskier was cross at him. Geralt had acted out of misplaced protectiveness. But the Witcher really needed to get it under control. Jaskier didn't want a repeat.

It would end up hurting Geralt, even if the man didn't think so at the moment.

Jaskier woke up crying, trying immediately to smother the noises under his palms as not to create a disturbance.

"Jaskier, you don't have to do that," Geralt said, kneeling by his head. "It's okay to make sounds."

It wasn't so much the Witcher's words than Jaskier's own need to reassure himself that Geralt was alive that made him move his hands and reach out. Jaskier had to make absolutely sure that Geralt hadn't been killed right in front of his eyes as a punishment for disobeying while Marden held him in place, making it impossible to even try to help.

Geralt was right there but…

"Want to hold hands?" Geralt checked before taking them.

His hands were just as warm as always, calluses and scars a familiar pattern under Jaskier's fingers by now. Geralt didn't mind that his grip was too tight to be comfortable. Jaskier desperately wanted to be hugged. But he wasn't ready for it yet. It felt like he was hanging on by hopes and wishes. And Geralt.

Especially Geralt.

It was hard to stay angry at him with the way the Witcher kept doing his best. Even right now Geralt was trying to sooth the crying, offer a rock to cling to. Jaskier heaved himself on his knees, looking at Geralt through tears. He didn't know how to ask for permission to do what he wanted to do. It felt too intimate, too… big.

"Yes," Geralt said, looking straight back. "Whatever you want to ask. The answer is yes."

Jaskier tried to make his vocal chords do as told, to explain.

"Yes, Jaskier," Geralt repeated sincerely. "Just yes."

Hesitantly Jaskier let go and lifted his hands slowly, so very slowly, to cradle Geralt's face. He could hear the Witcher's breath catch and see his eyes widen in surprise. But Geralt didn't make a single move to get away. Just as slowly Jaskier guided Geralt's face towards his until they could touch foreheads.

Geralt let out a sigh, moving slightly to get more comfortable before settling down. He wasn't trying to touch in any other way, just gently pressed back in a sign of being alright with the contact.

Jaskier wondered if the tears escaping his closed eyes were hitting Geralt's cheeks, making the Witcher appear like he too was crying.

He didn't have the courage to look.

Jaskier didn't know how long they stayed like that, only that his tears had dried long before they finally separated. He was too embarrassed to lift his head, staring at the ground instead. Now that Jaskier was calmer, he didn't know what had possessed him to do it. It had been too personal, too intimate.

He was worried Geralt had allowed it only to appease him. Despised each second of it. Stayed still only for his benefit. Jaskier hated the thought, would hate himself if it was true.

"Stop. I can practically hear you," Geralt suddenly said. "I did it because I wanted to."

Jaskier slumped, the building tension leaving him.

Geralt wasn't one to lie.

"Thank you," Jaskier whispered, laying back down. "I'm sorry I keep interrupting your sleep."

"It's fine."

Jaskier didn't agree with the sentiment. "I'm sorry. So sorry."

"Stop apologizing."

"Sorry."

Geralt gave an exasperated huff and settled down for the night. "Get some sleep, Jaskier."

"What are we going to do now?" Jaskier asked as he followed Geralt through the town's streets, leading Roach. It was early enough in the morning for them to be sparsely populated.

"There's another town close by," Geralt said, stopping in front of a stall selling root vegetables.

"You don't want to wander around the wilderness for a while?" Jaskier had to pull Roach's head away from the displayed carrots. She shouldn't turn into a petty thief. "After spending so many days here?"

"No."

"You sure? Geralt, you've been itching to kill anyone who even looks at me. Staying away from settlements could be a good idea."

The Witcher only harrumphed and paid for the groceries before moving on.

"Gera-" Jaskier's voice failed as a group of happily chatting women passed them, making him press flat against Roach to avoid them.

Clearing his throat he tried again. "Geralt. You don't like this much socializing in one go. We can walk around aimlessly for a while. Really."

"You need to have people around you," Geralt didn't sound pleased.

"And that's going to work wonderfully if you bash their heads in!"

"I don't do it if it's not necessary."

"Geralt! Your _necessary_ is completely skewed if you think yesterday was like that," Jaskier chided. "You can't just start picking fights. Think of your reputation. Think of mine!"

"You do that enough for both of us," Geralt said, placing yet another bag of provisions with the others on Roach.

"...How much more are you going to buy?" Jaskier had to ask, changing the topic. "You could feed an entire army with those."

Once again the Witcher didn't deign to answer, just continued to yet another stall. There was something strangely comforting about Geralt being such a curmudgeon, so normal for the Witcher.

Jaskier would never share the thought. Geralt had a very pleasant voice and Jaskier didn't want to deprive himself of the sound of it.

Geralt's shopping spree didn't take much longer and soon enough they were following the mostly empty road. Only few carts had passed them, heading to the town. It was nice knowing no one would be walking up to him, demanding something.

Unless they ran into bandits again.

Jaskier cursed his brain for presenting the possibility, making his anxiety rear up.

"Jaskier?" Geralt turned to look at him.

"Hmmm?" Roach's coat was soft under Jaskier's hand. He was glad to be still walking, even though he was getting tired. He was able to better seek comfort from the mare like this.

"What's wrong?"

"...Nothing… Just- just a passing thought," that really was all. No matter how much his body wanted to start fleeing. There was no threat. Nothing to run from. "I'm fine."

Geralt kept scrutinizing him. "What do you think about the river?"

"Excuse me?"

"It'll come into view soon. Want to take a break then? Or keep going until it disappears from sight?"

Jaskier hadn't been prepared for how hard the question was. It was alarming how visceral reaction thinking about it caused. Jaskier suddenly wanted to submerge and never come up again. Not to drown himself. Simply because it had been peaceful underwater. The cold and the strange way light scattered, every sound muffled.

"Jaskier?"

Oh. He had been silent for too long.

"Let's take a break."

"Hmmm."

Within fifteen minutes the first glimpses of the river came within eyesight, road steadily meandering closer and closer until following its banks. Jaskier couldn't tear his eyes away from the glistening water.

"No," Jaskier said and led Roach towards the river the moment he noticed Geralt heading off the road, away from the water.

There was a grumble but no actual protests.

Leaving Geralt rummage through the saddlebags, Jaskier walked to the riverbank, balancing on the stones as close to the brink as he could.

"Jaskier."

"Yes, yes," Jaskier waved his hand at the warning, not turning around.

The water looked inviting. He stepped back and bent to tug a boot off.

"Jaskier!" Geralt barked, materializing by his side.

"Hmmm?"

"What the fuck are you doing?"

"Taking my boots off. I don't want them to get soaked," Jaskier said absently, tossing the loose shoe vaguely into Roach's direction.

"There's something completely fucked up with you and this river. Were you going to warn me? Did you even check it's safe to swim here?" Geralt demanded.

Ah. Right. Jaskier realized he had again skipped those steps. "Of course."

It was clear Geralt knew the truth as he stalked to examine the area, shooting angry looks. Jaskier had to concede that Geralt did have a valid point about his relationship with the river.

He was still going to swim.

By the time Geralt grunted his approval, Jaskier had long ago gotten rid of his last boot and shrugged his doublet off. He couldn't stop worrying his chemise's sleeves.

"It's safe, you asshole," Geralt informed, looking like he wanted to force Jaskier away from the rocky bank. "Stay underwater too long and I'll drag you out of there."

"Uh-huh."

"Get the fuck out when I tell you."

"Mhmm."

"Jaskier!"

"Yes, Geralt," Jaskier said automatically, focused on the way light reflected off the river. He kept tugging at his sleeves.

With a sharp breath Jaskier shed his chemise and had jumped into the water almost before the shirt touched the ground.

That wasn't what Geralt expected.

Or rather, Jaskier jumping into the river was exactly what he had expected. Him shedding his shirt before doing so hadn't even crossed Geralt's mind.

It was making keeping an eye on the bard hard.

Geralt didn't want to accidentally make Jaskier feel evaluated or studied but letting the bard swim unsupervised was out of question. There was no way Geralt would trust him to do so. That fucking jump kept haunting him, rising his hackles at the memory.

It didn't help that he wasn't saintly enough to not appreciate the sight of Jaskier's bare skin.

"Get out," Geralt called out to Jaskier. The bard would start to freeze soon.

"No."

"Get the hell out of there."

With a disgruntled grumble Jaskier swam to the bank only to stop right before heaving himself up to the solid ground, looking panicked.

"Geralt, I- I can't- my shirt- could you?" Jaskier stammered.

Geralt went to retrieve the discarded chemise and handed it over to Jaskier without a word before returning to the small fire he had built. It didn't take long for the bard to join him after changing into dry clothes.

"Eat," Geralt handed Jaskier a steaming bowl of soup.

Geralt couldn't help noticing once again how much thinner Jaskier was from before everything. Even wearing layers and his doublet perfectly laced did nothing to hide it. The bard really needed to start eating better and definitely stop skipping meals.

"Eat," Geralt repeated with more force than necessary when the bard took a moment to warm his chilly fingers against the surface of the bowl, making Jaskier look at him quizzically.

"I will. Is everything okay?" Jaskier seemed genuinely concerned.

"Yes," no. Things wouldn't be okay until Jaskier was healthy again.

"Alright then…"

Jaskier was still looking cold when they had finished their lunch, huddling close to the fire. With the cloudy skies there wasn't much to combat the chill left by river's water. The idiot would be well on his way to getting sick again if he kept insisting on doing things like this. Not wanting it to happen Geralt walked up to Roach, ordering Jaskier not to move.

"Put this on," Geralt said, dropping one of his warmer shirts on Jaskier's lap.

"I can? Really?" Jaskier asked, eyes sparkling.

The bard must have been freezing to react like that.

"Yes."

"Thanks!" Jaskier was already pulling the shirt on, trying not to get it caught on his doublet.

Examining his fingers now covered by the overlong woolen sleeves Jaskier threw a quick smile at Geralt. "For such boring looking clothes, yours are very lovely. I'm convinced this one has to be among the warmest I've ever worn in my life."

Geralt wasn't sure why hearing that made him as pleased as it did. It was just a shirt. He hadn't even made it. There was no reason why Jaskier being taken with it should make him want to smile at the bard.

"You're wearing it over your chemise and a laced up doublet. Of course it feels like that."

"If that's what you want to think."

Geralt wondered if he should just let Jaskier start wearing his shirts whenever. They seemed to make him happier for some reason. But giving him a blanket permission felt weird, especially when seeing the bard in them was still causing Geralt's heart to skip. It wasn't a possessive feeling, seeing Jaskier snuggling -why, oh, why had he started to do that?- into his shirt and having their scents mingling. More of a… reassurance. Like a reminder that no matter the past, right now Jaskier was safe and Geralt could make it stay like that.

And he would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that sure turned into a long one! There just wasn't a good spot to cut it.


	46. Chapter 46

Jaskier was tired enough to fall off Roach when they stopped for the evening. He had to fight hard to dismount properly, not wanting to make Roach think she was doing a bad job. She wasn't. The mare had been spectacular the whole day, letting him to basically just sit while she did all the work.

Jaskier was forbidden from trying to return the favor after he accidentally dropped the saddle to the ground, startling Roach when he had tried to take it off. Apologizing profusely to her, he instead went to spread out the bedrolls as commanded before flopping on his. Watching Geralt take care of everything around the camp had turned into a familiar past time.

Jaskier wanted to help, he really did. But the developing tremor in his hands due to pure exhaustion was quite convincing reason to stay still. He felt so terribly heavy.

He should be used to it by now.

But it kept taking him by surprise how everything wrung him out, no matter how low the activity compared to before. It was frustrating, having his mental problems manifest as physical symptoms. He would love to have even one part of himself working as it should.

"Maybe Marden was right about the damaged part," Jaskier blurted out without meaning to.

"The fuck?" Geralt snarled, whirling to face him. "What the fuck makes you think that bastard was right about anything?"

"...Look at me. I'm not sure I could sit up if I tried," Jaskier mumbled. "This isn't normal."

Geralt looked ready to tear his hair out. "You're exhausted. So what? Just rest."

"It doesn't help. I'm like a bucket full of holes, everything just drains away."

"We'll just patch that fucking bucket up then. Problem solved."

"And you're not an object," Geralt added seriously, walking to sit next to Jaskier. "You know that, right?"

"Mmmm. Yeah," Jaskier did know. It was just easy to forget.

He wondered where his self-confidence and -worth had fucked off. It'd be kind of them to return.

"Jaskier, you're not something for people to do with as they please. You have the right to stand up for yourself, like you did with the innkeeper," Geralt continued. "Maybe you didn't like how you did it but it's better than let yourself be abused more out of fear to do anything. Don't stand there and take it. No one has any fucking right to harm you."

"He wasn't hurting me, Geralt."

"The fuck he wasn't."

"Geralt. Stop," Jaskier struggled to sit up to be able to face the Witcher properly. "You're going overboard. He scared me, so what? He had no way of knowing I'm a fucking fragile mess, just a pile of triggers. No harm meant."

The Witcher obviously wanted to shout, struggling to control himself. "Don't talk about yourself like that. Don't. Ever."

"It's the truth, why sugarcoat it?" Jaskier shrugged indifferent.

"Your reality is warped if you think that."

Jaskier stared at Geralt. He hadn't considered that. It all felt like facts, pure and simple.

"But, it's just facts…?" Jaskier echoed his thoughts, although his voice trailed into a question.

"Hell they are," Geralt scoffed.

Jaskier wasn't sure what to do with the opinion. It felt so foreign.

He was too tired for this.

"I can't," Jaskier admitted, rubbing his face. "Sorry."

"Hmmm," Geralt seemed to understand what he meant, letting the conversation end.

Rest of the evening was a quiet affair, Geralt going through his routines, preparing them dinner, and picking up the chores Jaskier usually did before he too settled for the night. Jaskier himself spent most of the time blocking unwanted thoughts and trying to find a comfortable position to lay. He wasn't sure which one was harder.

"...Geralt…?" Jaskier whispered, afraid of waking the Witcher even when he was perfectly aware his fidgeting was keeping the man awake.

"What?" Geralt sighed.

"...Nothing," Jaskier back pedaled after getting an answer.

"Out with it. I want to sleep at some point."

"I… Can I sleep next to you…?" Jaskier flushed in absolute mortification. This was a new low.

Geralt rolled over to face him, lifting himself to rest on his elbows. "You want to…?"

"Please don't make me repeat myself," Jaskier barely resisted the urge to hide his bright red face behind hands.

"Are you sure?" Geralt asked, eyes searching.

Jaskier nodded, wishing to go back in time so he could keep silent.

"Okay, then."

"...Okay…?"

"Yes," Geralt huffed. "Come here."

Jaskier moved his bedroll close enough to Geralt's to join them and lowered himself hesitantly on it.

"Thank you," he murmured, turning his back to the Witcher. Knowing Geralt was guarding it was helping.

He was already feeling safer.

"You're welcome," Geralt said softly before falling silent.

They reached the town early in the next evening.

"Geralt? I was thinking of performing right from the start. Try to earn us a room, meals at least," Jaskier informed the Witcher as they were stabling Roach. "I don't want a repeat of last time, me being a leech."

"You're not a leech," Geralt grumbled.

"Let's agree to disagree," Jaskier said, fiddling nervously with his lute case's strap. Underneath his determination, anxiety was steadily rising.

Everything here was unfamiliar.

They entered the inn just as the first raindrops started to fall. The atmosphere was warm and welcoming, people laughing and talking over food and drinks. The customary looks they drew made Jaskier want to press himself against Geralt's side. He had to focus on his breathing.

"You're fine," Geralt murmured, leading him towards the counter.

The small encouragement was bracing.

"Uhhh, evening. I was wondering if I could trade my services for a room to stay for a few days?" Jaskier did his best to feign confidence, addressing the innkeeper.

"A bard, huh?" the man asked, assessing him. "Any good?"

Dear Melitele, was he supposed to flatter himself? The only vaguely positive thing coming to mind was that he wasn't running away. Where was his usual confidence, the quick words to make people aware of his skills? This should be so very easy.

"Yes," Geralt stated behind his back.

"Hmmm, go for it," the innkeeper decided, rising his eyebrows at the way it had been the Witcher answering him. "You get this night for performance and we'll talk about the rest of them afterwards when I've heard you in action."

"Thank you," Jaskier forced out, trying to smile but landing on a pained grimace. His grip on the strap slung over his shoulder was white knuckled.

It was a blessing when the keys were handed over.

"Bollocks," Jaskier muttered, sitting slumped on the bed. His heart kept hammering in his steadily constricting chest and he was shaking all over, not able to calm down.

"Just breath for now," Geralt said from where he was arranging their bags. "You're alright."

"Doesn't feel like it," Jaskier retorted, observing the way his fingers trembled.

"Can I?" Geralt moved to sit next to him, holding his hand out.

Jaskier simply kept looking for a while before cautiously taking it. He was surprised when Geralt covered it with his other hand and started to gently massage the shaking fingers and palm. The warm pressure was easing the anxiety and by the time Geralt had moved on to the other hand, Jaskier's heart had returned to its normal rhythm and the trembling was gone.

"Thank you," Jaskier said in wonderment. The Witcher really was out to kill him with kindness.

"Hmmm."

"That helped. A lot. I think I actually can go sing. Wasn't sure for a moment there."

"Dinner first."

"Yes, yes," Jaskier took his lute out and gestured for Geralt to lead the way. "Could you order?"

He got a shrug in answer.

It was as if a vice suddenly clamped around Jaskier's heart when he realized he would have to perform separated from Geralt. There simply wasn't a table free with a right positioning. His head was filling with static making it hard to pay attention to anything, so he simply followed Geralt blindly until they were seated.

"Shit, shit, fucking bloody brilliant," Jaskier cursed, tangling hands into his hair and took a few deep breaths. "I- I don't know if I can do this. I want to. But I don't know."

"I can come stand with you."

"No. Geralt, no. Having you loom over me while I play is absolutely out of question. No offense."

"Hmph."

"I can do this? Right?" Jaskier asked, hoping fervently for any assurance. "I can start moving towards you. And come back the moment I finish."

Geralt was scowling and looking around the room.

"Geralt?"

"You got this," the Witcher was still sizing people up.

Jaskier managed to force half of his food down before giving up. "I- wish me luck."

"You'll be fine."

Jaskier didn't manage to get as close to the middle of the room as he wanted, legs simply refusing to move farther from Geralt as panic spiked painfully. Locking eyes with the Witcher, Jaskier forced his lungs to work. He needed air to sing. He needed to sing to do his job. Geralt could get to his side in seconds. It was fine. He was fine. He could do this.

There were curious eyes on him even before he started his intro. It was hard getting any sounds out, making him have a couple of false starts and causing him to flush in embarrassment. When he finally managed to start singing it got a little bit easier, being able to focus on his music and let it carry him.

After a while Jaskier started to head back towards Geralt, seeking the safety like a moth drawn to a light. He couldn't stand surrounded by strangers, center of the attention, not alone. He had to get back to the Witcher before his breath control would fail and leave him gasping for air and breaking apart. It might not be a good spot to perform from but far better than the alternative.

It was a relief when he finally let the last chord echo out.

Jaskier practically collapsed into his chair, scooting it as close to Geralt as he could in preparation for people coming over to talk to him. It did mean less profit than if he also went to make rounds around the place since not everyone was confident enough to approach him. But doing that was absolutely impossible.

It didn't take long for some of the audience to start walking towards him. And then suddenly change their minds and head back to their tables or go to the counter instead.

That had never happened before.

Never.

It left Jaskier completely baffled until he turned to Geralt to comment on it. The Witcher had an utterly murderous look on his face, glowering at anyone who stepped in their direction.

"Geralt!" Jaskier hissed. "Stop that."

"What?" Geralt didn't even look at him.

"You're scaring everyone away. How am I supposed to get paid if no one dares to come over?"

Geralt finally turned to face him. "I'm not doing anything."

"Yes you are," Jaskier was starting to get pissed. This was his job and it was currently hard enough without the Witcher stopping people from approaching him. "You look ready to kill. No one wants to chance it by coming to talk to me. To pay me."

"Hm."

Jaskier stood up. "Geralt!"

"They're free to come. I'm not stopping them."

"Oh, fuck you and your overprotectiveness," Jaskier spat properly angry now. "You're being a massive arse."

That seemed to take Geralt aback.

Good. With that Jaskier started to stomp back to their room, done with the situation. He could hear the Witcher follow him.

"No. Go away," Jaskier declared. "I don't want to see you right now, Geralt."

"Jaskier," Geralt rumbled displeased.

"I'm furious with you and want to be left alone. I literally can't storm away, so you better do it before I start to yell at you," Jaskier warned, stepping into the room and tried to slam the door in the Witcher's face. Geralt's reflexes and strength made it impossible as the man took hold of the door.

"Jaskier, you're overrea-"

"If you say overreacting I swear I'll fucking shred every piece of clothing you own," Jaskier snarled, trying to pull the door closed. "Go away, Geralt!"

"I wasn't-" Geralt didn't get a chance to finish.

"Fuck! Off!" Jaskier shouted absolutely livid. He had no patience left.

It worked. Geralt removed his hand keeping the door open, letting Jaskier slam it shut.

Finally alone, he stalked to the bed, grabbed the pillow, and muffled wordless screams with it.

Geralt kept staring at the closed door. He could hear mostly muffled furious screaming, hard for humans to hear, coming from the inside. Jaskier was far angrier than he had ever witnessed.

It was disconcerting.

As much as Geralt hated the idea of leaving Jaskier alone in such a state, he headed to the stable. He didn't have other ideas what to do. Roach at least was happy to see him, repeatedly nudging him in hopes to receive a treat or two.

"Hi, Roach," Geralt said, scratching her forehead. "Sorry, didn't bring anything."

"I think I fucked up," he murmured. Roach was a good listener. Had been his only one for years before Jaskier forced himself into his life. "Kept Jaskier from getting paid, after he worked so hard too. Didn't mean to do that. He might have a point, I'm probably being overprotective."

After retrieving a brush he continued while caring for the mare. "Jaskier is just… He's already hurt. Badly. And I can't just stitch or bandage him to make it heal. It's not that kind of a wound. I fucking _hate_ the idea of anything else happening to him. Don't know how much more he could handle. I don't want to lose him, Roach."

It was hard to verbalize that even to her.

"But I can't be the one hurting him. Did it once already. And he's still not completely over it, doesn't let himself be hugged or let arms circle him in any way. He did that once before it," Geralt quietly talked while leaving Roach's coat silky with his rhythmic strokes. "Part of it might be that Jaskier finally admitted what happened. Was about to happen. But I fucking restrained him, forced him to endure physical contact when all he wanted was to get away. It's a fucking miracle Jaskier still trusts me."

"I have to figure out how to let people get close to him again. Not only I don't want to hurt him more than I've already done but Jaskier needs it," Geralt sighed, moving on to untangle the mare's mane and tail. "Needs to re-learn how to interact with others, to regain trust and the feeling of control. Guess I too should learn to trust others a bit more where Jaskier is concerned."

"Any ideas on how to help him?" he asked. "Because I have fuck all."

Geralt got a snort and a stomp in answer.

"Hmmm. Thought so."

Giving final pats to Roach, Geralt went to return the equipment and headed back inside. Jaskier should have had enough time to simmer down by now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Geralt, you just keep fucking up lately...


	47. Chapter 47

After finishing screaming, Jaskier threw the pillow against the wall and imagined it was Geralt's face it hit instead.

Fucking asshole.

It was difficult enough to work without Geralt sabotaging the latter part of his job. The one that brought money into his hands. Sure, he loved music but he also liked to get paid. Even the performing which he normally enjoyed made his anxiety spike due all the attention he garnered, so it'd be nice to have a concrete reward for getting through it. A proof that people still could find him capable, able to entertain and move them. A proof of not having lost even that when it felt like everything else had crumbled down.

And he needed the coin, plain and simple. He didn't revel in being a pauper.

Jaskier realized his right hand was suddenly smarting. Lifting to inspect it, he saw red and scratched knuckles. Or rather, more pronounced ones than after decking the innkeeper. Bloody fantastic, he had hit the wall. This was exactly what he had talked about with Geralt, doing things without conscious decision.

He wanted to punch the wall again in frustration.

Taking a deep and measured breath, he headed to the saddlebags to get the disinfectant. Moving his fingers back and forth, Jaskier was relieved that nothing hurt overly, no breaks or fractures. He would be able to play his lute without any problems.

Geralt would be absolutely beside himself when he saw the hand. Jaskier wasn't sure whether he was more worried or spiteful about it. Probably worried. But the Witcher better have rethought his actions or Jaskier swore he would launch the pillow at him. Geralt would simply catch it and even if he allowed himself to get hit, it wouldn't do any damage. The action just would be so very satisfying. And get the point across.

As if summoned, there was knocking and Geralt's voice. "Jaskier?"

"Come in," Jaskier was ready to face the Witcher again, although he knew it wouldn't take much to get properly angry again.

Geralt walked wordlessly to sit on a chair, jaw clenched and eyes glued to the bloodied knuckles Jaskier was tending.

"Hit the wall," Jaskier said coolly. "Not on purpose."

"Anything broken?" Geralt sounded just as on edge as Jaskier had predicted.

"No."

"Hmmm."

Jaskier had no inclination to start the conversation. If Geralt wanted to apologize or explain himself, he was welcome to open his mouth. Jaskier had nothing to say to him currently.

"Jaskier, I…" Geralt started like he had to drag the words out. "I'm sorry. I went too far."

"You did."

"I'll try to rein myself in from now on."

"Good."

Geralt gave a frustrated huff, clearly hoping for more elaborate replies.

Too bad, Jaskier wasn't in the mood for a long talk.

"I forgive you, Geralt. But don't threaten or attack people needlessly again, this is the third time I ask that of you if you didn't notice. And definitely don't do it when I'm trying to work," Jaskier went to put the supplies back in place. "Get out. I want to change into something more suitable for bed."

It was a relief to slip under the covers, to know the day would be over soon. Although, he had to briefly get back up to retrieve his forgotten pillow. Geralt entered again, took one look at still irate Jaskier without saying anything and started to unroll his bedding onto the floor.

Jaskier felt much more amicable when he woke up after yet another restless night.

"Good morning," he greeted Geralt who was finishing last of his stretches.

Geralt grunted his own greeting while staying folded over his stretched out leg before changing into a mirroring pose.

"Geralt, do you have plans for today?" Jaskier inquired.

"No. Why?"

"I was hoping you could take Roach for a ride early. I would like to… try to get close to a bathtub again," Jaskier's voice turned quieter the longer he spoke. Like wasn't the right word at all. But he had to do it.

"And I can't- I can't be alone afterwards," it was hard to admit. Even when Geralt already knew without a sliver of doubt how terribly distraught he would be, practically inviting a panic attack on himself.

Geralt straightened up to look at him, face serious. "Jaskier, are you sure it's a good idea? It went to hell last time."

"It went better than the first time," Jaskier countered. "I want -need- to regain this, Geralt. I can't let Marden to have stolen my ability to _bathe_. It's… I can't. I refuse."

"...Fine. But I will lead you the fuck out of there the moment it looks like it gets too much. Even if you don't ask for it," Geralt decided.

"Thank you. Truly," Jaskier said sincerely. "This means a lot to me."

"You're welcome," Geralt's tone softened slightly. "Just don't push too hard."

Jaskier offered the Witcher a crooked smile and a shrug. He honestly wasn't sure what was too much before he had already done it.

Geralt left to ride Roach a little after their late breakfast, leaving Jaskier alone in their room. They had both agreed it'd be for the best to leave most of the day for Jaskier to recover before he'd perform again in the evening. Jaskier had been pleased that his clumsy start hadn't bothered the innkeeper who had deemed him skilled enough to earn the free boarding.

He was incredibly grateful to still be considered a good musician.

That one thing in his life hadn't changed.

A miracle.

The knowledge of what he was going to do after Geralt's return was making Jaskier jittery and feeling on edge. But it was better to feel the familiar panic of being left alone creeping closer now than after trying to confront one of his biggest triggers. At least logically. Jaskier's emotions had once again trouble following his rationality, only yearning for the safety Geralt represented and offered. He might have gotten angry at the Witcher over his protectiveness but it had been mostly situational, tied to the fact that Geralt had prevented him from getting paid.

He couldn't stop thinking how easy it would be for someone to simply force their way into the room. The inn's doors weren't very sturdy. He wouldn't be able to run away. He'd be trapped, an easy prey.

It was a ludicrous fear. Jaskier was perfectly aware of it.

And even if it would happen, the breaking door would cause enough ruckus to draw attention. There was no way the innkeeper or one of the employees wouldn't rush to see what had happened. He wouldn't be alone for long with whoever had decided he'd be the perfect victim.

Not that it would happen in the first place.

Jaskier just needed to focus on the reality. Not the frightening scenarios his mind supplied, making his breaths hitch and cold sweat bead on his forehead. The pain in his chest was just anxiety, not anything dangerous. Just another thing to ignore.

Jaskier wished Geralt was here to offer assurances. His own were close to useless.

But he was determined to endure. It might help if he could focus on his work. Get lost in songwriting. Block everything else out. He hadn't been able to do it so far but slow progress with the ballad was still progress.

Retrieving his songbook, Jaskier settled down to work, skimming over the pages full of both crossed out and approved lyrics and notes for the melody, everything penned down in a messy and meandering fashion, switching from one idea to another in a way that would make no sense for anyone else than him, until Jaskier was sure where in the process he currently was.

He would have to ask Geralt if he would come with him at some point to find a place to play his lute without having to worry about disturbing people. Even if they somehow would appreciate the music at first, it would soon get annoying when he kept repeating snippets over and over again to find the right combinations. For now he would just work on the lyrics again. Pen twirling and leg rapidly bouncing he softly sang under his breath, occasionally writing something down when it sounded right or had some potential at least.

Eventually he had to get up to pace around, unable to stop rubbing his forearms and trying his best to get his breathing under control again. Suddenly there were tears escaping caused by a spike of fear that left him shaking and breathless, completely frozen in place.

Regaining his ability to move, he sat down again and stared at the songbook, careful to avoid having tears land on the pages. One ruined songbook was more than enough.

 _"How often can my words be ignored / Before they stop flowing,"_ Jaskier whispered, reading the newest line he had approved before closing the book and scrubbed at the still dripping tears. He couldn't focus anymore, everything blurring into a one ball of anxiety.

Each minute alone was getting harder.

By the time Geralt returned, Jaskier had hunched into himself, one hand over his mouth to muffle any sounds threatening to escape and the other trying to wipe tears away in vain.

"Jaskier," Geralt hurried to his side. "It's safe here. You're safe. It's alright."

It was sweet how Geralt kept trying to convince him he was safe. Jaskier rarely felt like that anymore. But the Witcher's presence helped with it.

"You're alright, nothing is going to hurt you, Jaskier. I won't let it happen," Geralt continued talking. "You're safe."

Jaskier nodded and reached out in a silent request. He missed, craved, physical comfort so badly. It hurt not to be able to stand most of it. Geralt didn't hesitate to envelope his hand with both of his after quick check if he had read the gesture correctly. The Witcher was doing amazing with that, asking permission. Jaskier didn't have to stay on guard around him or afraid of being suddenly touched. Didn't have to constantly fight to keep a composed front up.

He could simply be without a need to pretend being fine.

"Jaskier, are you sure you should try to get close to a bathtub?" Geralt asked frowning.

"Yes. I just need a moment to calm down," Jaskier's voice was still stuffy but his tears had dried. "I'll be okay. Well… relatively. You know what I mean."

Letting Geralt's hands go, Jaskier moved to lay on the bed. Watching the Witcher he switched the topic. "Geralt, can we go find a place tomorrow where I could play? There's only so much I can compose without having a chance to hear how it sounds."

"Sure," Geralt looked pleased by the request. "I can canvas the area in advance on Roach to have a better idea what's where."

"Thank you. I'd like to take a nap if that's okay with you?" Jaskier checked, feeling drained from his heightened anxiety. He felt like napping was all he did nowadays. "Just a short one."

"Go for it."

Jaskier was again clutching Geralt's hand like his life dependent on it as they stepped inside the bathroom. It wasn't that far from the truth, he was starting to suffocate in the same fear for his and Geralt's life and the utter helplessness that he had lived through last time he had bathed.

He knew the situation was completely different now. And it hadn't been the bathtub itself presenting the danger in the first place. It was just a harmless object. There was no one here to force him strip so they could look at him hungrily, to take enjoyment from his discomfort of being touched, or beat him for not reaching their standard of perfection.

Geralt kept telling him he was safe, that no one would hurt him again, that he wouldn't let it happen.

And Geralt was the only one here with him.

Jaskier took a shaky step towards the tub, trying to keep his breathing steady. It felt like his heart was about to escape out of his chest with its wild and far too fast rhythm.

"Jaskier, you're safe. No one here but us," Geralt reminded him, giving his hand a brief squeeze. "There's no danger, we're at the inn. You're safe."

"...Yeah…" Jaskier tightened his grip even more as he hesitantly took a few more steps forward.

There were tears stinging his eyes and starting to run down his cheeks. He was terrified. Starting to forget how to breathe, feel Marden's touch on his lower back, massaging his scalp, gripping his nape, hitting him.

"You won't be forced to do anything, Jaskier. We can leave anytime. It's safe. You're safe."

"Mmmm…"

Jaskier was again close enough to touch the tub. He couldn't avert his gaze from it. Geralt's voice was starting to fade out into a background noise.

With a sharp breath Jaskier plunged his hand into the water.

And would have promptly collapsed to his knees if not for Geralt grabbing his waist to soften the movement, while Jaskier started to dry heave, body rebelling, overwhelmed by panic and utter terror.

"Jaskier! Jaskier, you're safe. Safe. There's no threat. You're safe," Geralt said urgently, trying to grab his attention. "You're okay. Safe. You're safe, Jaskier."

Geralt didn't let go of Jaskier's hand but had removed his other one from his waist, letting Jaskier prop himself up while he retched. As reality started to filter in again Jaskier was grateful for the action. He would panic even more if he was being held. He was already panicking badly enough.

Touching the water had been a horrible idea.

Jaskier could now feel the way it had moved against his skin when he had lowered himself in the tub. It was lapping at almost all of his body.

Jaskier knew he was making some sort of sound as he turned around to cling to Geralt's arm, burying his face in the Witcher's shoulder. He needed to get away. He couldn't move. He didn't know what to do.

"Jaskier, we need to leave. Now. It's safe but we need to go."

Jaskier agreed with the leaving. It wasn't safe.

"Can you get up?"

Maybe.

"That's it. Keep holding on to me."

Oh, he had been able to stand up and was taking steps, following Geralt blindly and clinging on to the Witcher.

The walk back to their room was agonizing, the small exertion was leaving his heaving lungs even more breathless, void of any air. Suddenly he could feel Geralt sit down and followed the example, ending on a soft surface. A bed. Jaskier wasn't sure if he wanted to be on one. But Geralt was next to him so nothing would happen. The Witcher wouldn't let Marden touch him. No, no, Marden was dead. Not a threat anymore. The king wouldn't be able to do anything to anyone ever again.

"Jaskier, Jaskier, focus on me. You're safe. Completely safe. You need to slow your breathing," Geralt kept repeating until Jaskier was able to take deeper breaths and lift his head to face him.

"You with me?" there was hope in Geralt's voice.

"Uh-huh."

"Good. Talk to me."

Strange request but Jaskier tried his best to fulfill it. "...Hi… …Geralt. I- I… That... didn't go as- as planned. Sh- shouldn't have touched the… the water."

"No shit. You keep trying to do too much at once," Geralt tried to scoff but it came out too worried to be one. "Jaskier, I'm seriously considering to start stopping you before you manage to do things like that."

"Don't. Geralt… Please. No," Jaskier pleaded. "I need to- please don't restrict me from doing things. I can't- I have to-"

The Witcher gave a heavy sigh and a nod. "I won't. Not if you aren't truly in danger. But fucking think before acting. I hate seeing you do shit like that over and over again. And we're not going to try that ever again if you've had anything resembling a panic attack earlier in the day."

"Okay…" that was a fair condition. "I'm sorry. Honestly."

Another sigh. "It's fine. Not really your fault."

Jaskier realized he was still clutching Geralt's arm so he loosened his grip a bit without letting go completely. Geralt had been okay with it so far. He too would probably be fine to continue for a little while longer, so Jaskier shuffled until he could lean on it comfortably and closed his eyes. Geralt kept still and steady, showing no signs of discomfort. Instead the Witcher leaned lightly into the touch, letting Jaskier rest his head on his shoulder.

Jaskier startled awake, hitting his head on something hard, eliciting a curse from Geralt.

"Sorry," Jaskier said bewildered after realizing it had been Geralt's skull he had collided with. "Did I fall asleep on you?"

"Hmmm."

Strangely Geralt didn't look irritated or even impatient from having been used as a pillow. For what looked like hours by the change of light coming from the window.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to do that. You could have just shoved me off, you know," Jaskier was still feeling a bit disoriented when he righted himself so he wasn't leaning on the Witcher anymore. It was cold without the warmth of Geralt side.

"It's fine. You need sleep."

"I could have done that laying on the actual bed instead of forcing you to stay still, keeping you from doing anything."

"I meditated," Geralt averted his eyes as he continued. "And didn't mind. You slept peacefully."

"Oh."

Geralt had been acting differently lately. It was making Jaskier's heart race, and not from anxiety for once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, Jaskier...
> 
> I won't have enough time to write tomorrow so I'm taking a long weekend off this time. See you on Monday! ❤️❤️❤️


	48. Chapter 48

The moment Jaskier went slack against him had been alarming, making Geralt immediately think the bard had fallen unconscious due some injury he had missed. After realizing Jaskier had just fallen asleep instead, he had been worried about moving and accidentally waking him.

To pass the time Geralt tried to meditate but it mostly turned into staring at the bard. It felt incredible that Jaskier was trusting him enough to fall asleep leaning against him. He had to be feeling extremely safe to be able to do it, no matter how utterly exhausted the bard might be. Geralt wasn't sure what he was supposed to do with all that trust and faith bestowed upon him. But the prolonged contact was calming, being able to feel every slow breath and hear the quiet snuffles, to see Jaskier look peaceful for once.

Geralt wondered if his heart was about to burst from affection. He wasn't used to it.

It was almost like a loss when the bard awoke and extracted himself. Geralt felt cold without Jaskier leaning on him.

"Feeling better?" Geralt asked. As happy as he was seeing Jaskier get some rest, it still felt unfamiliar behavior even after all these days.

Jaskier simply was meant to be full of energy, endless chatter, and movement. It was hard seeing him constantly exhausted and listless, getting tired so easily. It was perfectly normal reaction, just far from Jaskier's normal. Previous normal. It would most likely continue to wax and wane for a long time, possibly even for rest of the bard's life. Geralt knew he wouldn't be leaving Jaskier regardless. He also knew it wouldn't always be easy to stay, that he would have to make the decision over and over again when things got especially difficult.

The answer wouldn't change.

He was and would be here for Jaskier in whatever capacity he could and would be allowed, for as long as the bard let him.

"I do," Jaskier was looking at Geralt like he was a puzzle the bard was trying to solve. "Thanks for letting me sleep."

"What?" that look was starting to grate at Geralt's nerves. "Something on my face?"

"Nope," Jaskier continued staring.

Feeling unsettled by the way Jaskier kept studying him as if the bard thought the answers to life's biggest and most profound questions could be found on his face, Geralt got up to check his swords. There was absolutely no need for it. He just wanted something to do with his hands.

"Geralt, do you… want to go downstairs?" it was obvious Jaskier changed his question half way through.

Geralt gave an affirmative grunt and sheathed his silver sword again. It'd be a better distraction. And a chance to get some food into the bard.

Jaskier couldn't stop staring at Geralt. It felt like he was on the verge of some realization, one that felt huge, but at the same time he was too scared to try to truly examine it.

So he just looked.

Geralt was a perfect sight for such an activity. Jaskier was quite sure he wouldn't ever tire of his broad frame, strong jaw, long white hair, and the gorgeous amber eyes. The Witcher was a marvel, a true masterpiece. So handsome, so exquisite.

Grabbing his lute, Jaskier followed Geralt back to the common area. It was emptier than yesterday which wasn't surprising since it wasn't as late. Gathering the shreds of his courage, Jaskier placed their orders with a quiet voice and halting words, feeling foolish of how disproportionately proud he felt for managing it. Honestly, how fucking miserable had his life turned into to make him pleased about being able to do such an inconsequential thing?

Geralt seemed glad that he had done it.

"Did you see anything interesting while out?" Jaskier broke the silence, pushing his food around the plate.

"Hmmm," came the expected answer.

"Nothing then? No monsters? No flower fields?" Jaskier tried to prompt Geralt into giving a better description of his ride.

"No."

"That's boring."

"You can try to find excitement tomorrow," Geralt huffed.

"Perhaps I will," Jaskier countered. "Hopefully flowers too."

Geralt just gave him a side eye.

"What? I like flowers. Why else would I have named myself after one?" Jaskier defended himself, a small smile gracing his lips. "They're pretty. And can be useful."

"Calling yourself pretty and useful?" Geralt quipped before shooting a pointed look at Jaskier's mostly untouched plate.

"Maybe," smile widening Jaskier shoved a piece of a potato in his mouth. It tasted like ash. But he probably should at least try to stomach a little more. Might help with the exhaustion too. He was tired of being constantly tired.

The tavern kept steadily filling while they ate, people coming to spend the evening after their work days. Jaskier's fingers kept drumming against the table as he considered the crowd, trying to decide if he should wait for more to come or start already. His good mood had drained away, leaving him agitated again.

Giving a nervous sigh and dragging his hands over his face, Jaskier decided to start and stood up. He tried to walk a bit closer to the center of the room but his legs simply refused to take more than four steps away from Geralt before he was already backing to the Witcher's side. He simply couldn't. Not after the day he had had. It was beyond frustrating but Jaskier wasn't able to leave what he considered the safest place to be. He'd try again next time to play from more optimal position, farther away from Geralt. He didn't want to stay this dependent on the Witcher. It was limiting. It wasn't healthy. But he would have to admit defeat this time and just focus on getting through the performance.

Finishing singing, Jaskier turned his chair to face away from the table and slumped in it. "That was lackluster, wasn't it?"

"It was fine," Geralt looked the bard over to assess his condition. "You didn't make mistakes."

"Doesn't mean it's a good performance," Jaskier said, distracted by people starting to head towards him. Melitele's tits, he wanted to run.

Giving Geralt a quiet warning not to look murderous, Jaskier himself did his best to smooth the growing panic off his face. He couldn't fake a smile but he could do neutral. At least he was relatively sure that was his expression.

It was a relief when people got the hint not to touch him with the way he kept leaning away. Although, Jaskier was sure it was mostly thanks to Geralt shooting glares at those who tried. That was perfectly fine, not overdoing it to a point of frightening everyone away.

Jaskier trusted Geralt not to repeat yesterday.

"I was disappointed you left so quickly last night," a dark haired man said, drawing out a surprisingly large amount of coins from his purse. "For your previous performance too."

"Thank you," Jaskier didn't know what else to say. He had been using mostly stock phrases so far.

Jaskier could feel Geralt straighten even more where he was sitting next to him in preparation. He didn't mind.

"Would you join me for a drink? I also have a room here if you'd prefer a more private setting," the man asked with a warm smile while subtly checking him out.

Jaskier could see the man reaching out to place the coins in his hand, probably wanting to use the innocuous touch to gauge interest. He couldn't move to duck away. Couldn't do anything.

Before the man could even brush his fingers, Geralt gripped his wrist, giving a warning."Walk away."

"Don't you think Jaskier should speak for himself?" the man asked, drawing his hand back.

It was terribly jarring to be called by his name by a total stranger. It took a second for Jaskier to realize he had introduced himself to the audience before playing like he always did.

"Fuck off," Geralt's tone was quickly approaching a growl. Jaskier had no complaints. He just wanted the man to leave him alone.

The man did step out of Geralt's arm reach but continued. "What do you say Jaskier, want to continue the night with me?"

"No," Jaskier managed to whisper. He was terrified of denying the man's obvious interest, scared there would be a violent retaliation.

"Okay then. Have a nice evening anyway," the stranger's smile didn't falter too much as he turned to walk away, leaving the coins on the table.

"Time to go," Geralt said in a carefully controlled tone.

Jaskier nodded woodenly, pocketing the coins and grabbing his lute, letting Geralt usher him back to their room.

"Jaskier, are you alright?" Geralt asked, seeking eye contact.

Jaskier could only give a small shake of his head, throat too constricted for words and unshed tears stinging his eyes.

"What do you need?"

A shrug. Jaskier didn't know the answer.

"Okay. We'll figure it out. Sit."

Jaskier did, right where he was and landed on the floor. Probably not what Geralt had meant, he thought belatedly.

Geralt got Jaskier water and sat in front of him before continuing. "Jaskier, you're safe, weren't in danger at any point. You did the right thing by saying no."

Had he? What if that man had left just to get backup? The stranger had kept smiling, what if it was because he knew he'd get what he wanted, what he had been paying for?

"Jaskier, keep breathing. You're safe. Do you want to hold my hand? To ground yourself?"

Jaskier shook his head. He didn't want anyone to lay hands on him. In any fashion. Thinking about being touched at all made him shudder.

"I won't touch. You can always say no. To me, to anyone," Geralt's voice was soft, almost soothing. "Always."

But could he? Not everyone was like Geralt. How could the Witcher be sure he hadn't just doomed them both? Maybe he should have gone along with it.

"Jaskier, stay focused on me. You're safe. Nothing bad is going to happen. You did the right thing."

"...Really…?" Jaskier whispered, blinking tears away. "What if…?"

"No ifs," Geralt stated. "Everything is fine. Nothing will happen because you refused. Nothing. You're not in danger. I'm not in danger."

Jaskier gave a small noncommittal hum. The panic was receding but he couldn't yet get rid of the feeling that something horrible was awaiting them because he dared to tell the stranger no.

"Jaskier, trust me. You're safe. We're safe," Geralt was looking absolutely serious. "You did good."

"I trust you," Jaskier said, locking eyes with Geralt. That he knew without a doubt.

"Then trust me when I say everything is fine."

Biting his lip, Jaskier nodded. Geralt was better judge of danger and had also earlier said his view of reality had shifted sideways. Maybe that was true. The cause and effect just had been so clear cut that it suddenly felt like it simply worked that way in general. But Geralt was right, it hadn't been like that before. It shouldn't have changed.

The more Jaskier calmed down the easier it was to see that.

"Gods, I'm being ridiculous again," Jaskier mumbled, scrubbing tears away. "I keep finding new things to be irrational about all the time."

"Cut it," Geralt snapped. "You're capable of facing more than before. Of course it brings new things. It doesn't make you ridiculous."

"Hmmm."

"Drink your water," Geralt sighed, pointing at the forgotten mug sitting in front of Jaskier. "And go to bed. You'll feel better in the morning."

Geralt had indeed predicted the future right, Jaskier was doing better as he finished breakfast still bleary-eyed and yawning next morning.

"Ready to go?" Geralt asked, startling Jaskier out of his sleepy reverie.

"Go where?" Jaskier frowned at the Witcher, trying to remember what they had spoken about five minutes ago.

"You said you want to find a place to play your lute."

Ah, right. He had done that yesterday. "Sure. But what about Roach? Shouldn't you take her for a ride before it?"

"She'll come with us," Geralt informed him.

"Roach will like that," Jaskier was already getting up, eager to go outside. "Let's get our things and leave."

"You're acting like an overgrown puppy excited to be let out."

"Good thing people love dogs, then."

"Hmmm."

The mare was indeed happy to see them and even happier about getting to stretch her legs. Jaskier sneaked her a sugar cube while leading her along a small road heading out of the town, Geralt walking silently next to him. After a while the Witcher directed them to a forest trail.

"Geralt, are you trying to find flowers by sniffing the air?" Jaskier asked, spotting Geralt take periodically deep breaths through his nose.

"Fuck no," Geralt grumbled, staring resolutely straight ahead.

"Yes you are!" Jaskier crowed delighted. "Maybe I should change the White Wolf into the White Hound."

"Go to hell," Geralt stepped off the trail, leading them through the trees until they reached a small clearing.

Jaskier was thrilled to see that there were, indeed, flowers. "You truly have a trusty nose, Witcher."

"Stop running your mouth and start singing, bard."

Jaskier plopped down to start tuning his lute, observing Geralt unsaddle Roach before switching to his sword practice. For a few minutes Jaskier got distracted by Geralt's form and the way sun glinted off his sword. It truly was a sight. Shaking his head Jaskier focused again on the task at hand, nimble fingers coaxing melodies from the lute for hours.

_"How much does it take_  
_For a heart to break_  
_How many times can your smile_  
_Shoot through me without leaving scars_  
_How often can my words be ignored_  
_Before they stop flowing"_

Jaskier sang, finally satisfied with the first verse.

"Did you finish?" Geralt asked, wiping sweat off his forehead and sat next to him.

"Just the very first part," Jaskier placed his lute down and reached to pick some flowers instead. "What do you think?"

"It's a song."

"You truly are a great audience. So many opinions," Jaskier proclaimed. "Very in depth."

"Hmmm."

It was peaceful to sit with Geralt under the sun and weave flowers together after finishing even a part of a new song, Roach grazing a few feet away.

Jaskier felt better than in a long time.

"Here, for you," he turned to Geralt, presenting a flower crown. "Could you wear it?"

"Seriously?" the Witcher snorted but took the crown to inspect it.

With a disgruntled sigh Geralt placed it on his head, expression turning soft and a rare smile gracing his lips as he looked at Jaskier.

All air escaped Jaskier's lungs at the sight. He knew that look. So well. Far too well. It was the same expression he wore whenever Geralt did something that made his heart swell with love.

Geralt might love him back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> JASKIER, YOU CONNECTED THE DOTS!!!


	49. Chapter 49

A flower crown. Of all things to gift, Jaskier had chosen a flower crown. It wasn't actually that surprising after the dandelions the bard had braided into his hair but still ridiculous as Geralt placed it on his head. He felt so incredibly fond of Jaskier, seeing how his face lit up in delight at the small action. This was probably the whole reason why the bard had wanted to find a place with flowers in the first place.

And then Jaskier suddenly choked on thin air, eyes widening almost comically large. The bard flapped a hand at him while coughing and making disturbing wheezing sounds.

"Jaskier?!" Geralt exclaimed, crossing the short distance between them so that their knees almost touched.

It didn't take long before Jaskier was able to force strangled words out. "Spit. Lung. I'm fine."

"Seriously?" Geralt grumbled both irate and relieved. He had feared having accidentally caused yet another panic attack.

Jaskier thumped his chest few times before straightening to stare into Geralt's eyes. The bard appeared to be at loss for words, working his jaw uselessly and looking both utterly dumbfounded and pale.

"What?" Geralt asked, getting concerned again. "What's wrong?"

Jaskier just shook his head, still wide eyed and emotions flickering in them quicker than Geralt could decipher. He didn't have the faintest what had set Jaskier off this time. He needed to know.

"Jaskier, talk to me."

"I- You- Why?" the bard was giving a valiant effort and landing on incomprehensible. "How long? I can't… Do you…?"

"Use sentences. I can't read minds," Geralt prompted. He didn't want to end up stepping on the same trigger again. "What happened?"

"I…" Jaskier trailed off, giving a frustrated sound of not being able to verbalize better, having his words fail him.

Before Geralt had time to try calming him down, Jaskier grabbed his lute from the ground and started to sing.

_"How much does it take_  
_For a heart to break_  
_How many times can your smile_  
_Shoot through me without leaving scars_  
_How often can my words be ignored_  
_Before they stop flowing_

_Am I a ghost to you_  
_My dearest_  
_Someone to brush aside and forget_  
_Unless you need something_  
_And my foolish yearning heart_  
_Will give the world to you_

_For I never learn_

_I hope one day you see me_  
_And my aching heart_  
_Are singing for you_  
_My love, my belladonna kiss"_

Geralt was vaguely aware of melodies still not matching seamlessly and having heard the words again and again today alongside with the rest of the song, but all he could focus on was the intensity of Jaskier's gaze. The fire in his eyes, challenging him to hear, to understand.

He finally did.

"Fuck," Geralt breathed out. He too was at loss for words now.

Singing. That Jaskier could do even when words stopped working, dying on his lips. It was such an integral part of who he was, carved deep in his bones and soul, his very core. And the ballad had been written about his love and painful yearning for Geralt in the first place. He needed to make the Witcher understand, to finally see. Jaskier knew he was being reckless, possibly destroying everything they shared if he had read Geralt wrong.

Sadly, he was but a man hopelessly in love.

There was only so much he could do to keep his feelings from overflowing and pouring out.

Jaskier clutched his lute as Geralt only kept staring at him silently after the quiet curse, expression completely flat. He had been mistaken after all, hadn't he? Projecting his own feelings on the Witcher, seeing what he wanted. Jaskier couldn't help but hunch into himself, eyes burning, regret and rejection stabbing through his heart.

He just couldn't stop fucking up.

"Jaskier…" Geralt started, strange edge in his tone. "Did you mean it?"

No use denying it now. "Yes."

Geralt reached towards his face with a sharp inhale and Jaskier slammed his eyes shut, flinching away from the touch that never came.

"Jaskier. Jaskier, look at me," Geralt coaxed. "I should have asked."

Jaskier forced himself to do so, dislodging tears he hadn't realized having sprung out. Geralt's amber eyes were soft and worried.

"That's it. Take a deep breath."

It made Jaskier realize he had stopped doing so completely, making his first breaths desperate before getting them mostly under control. Definitely not how he had fantasized this moment going. Ever. And he had a large collection to choose from. Most of them included extremely passionate kissing. Now he was shying away from even the simplest of touches.

Geralt kept staring at him, not saying anything.

"Geralt… you can just ignore it," Jaskier decided to break the silence. His heart was already breaking after all. "Let's pretend I never told you."

"No."

"Geralt, please. This doesn't have to change anything. Really."

"I want it to."

"You… What?" Jaskier wasn't prepared for that. He was again filling with hope when it could just as easily be prelude to Geralt leaving, finally having had enough despite all the assurances. He truly never learned.

"I want it to change things," Geralt said, leaning slightly forward. "I won't pretend not having understood."

"You could just forget then?"

That earned a snort from Geralt. "Not about how to ignore the words. I don't want to do that at all."

"Are you going to walk away?" Jaskier asked hesitantly. "Or, or, are you saying it's not only me?"

"...Same," Geralt looked and sounded like someone was pulling his tooth out. "I feel the same."

"Oh!" Jaskier didn't know whether to weep or laugh.

So he did both.

Geralt was starting to look more and more concerned the longer Jaskier was unable to rein his reaction in. But it was incredibly overwhelming, even more so than he had thought it could be, his emotions already being such a tangled mess. He had wished for this to happen for so long, so deeply. And now that it came true, it had absolutely horrible timing.

"What are we going to do?" Jaskier asked, still trying to wrestle last of his hysteria down.

"Hmmm. What we want," Geralt mused, fingers twitching to touch.

"But that's it. I can't do what I want," Jaskier gave him a fragile and trembling smile, finally calming. "And I can't- I can't give you what you want."

It hurt.

"Jaskier, I don't want anything you can't or don't want to freely give," Geralt said softly. "I don't."

Jaskier shook his head. "Geralt, I can only touch you when asked about it beforehand and not always even then. I have no fucking idea when I can kiss you, not to mention have sex. That's not fair to you."

"We've managed just fine without those so far."

"Not in a romantic relationship. Don't try to tell me there's no expectations while in one," Jaskier said pained. It felt surreal, him hesitating while Geralt seemed to be all in. If anything, he would have guessed it'd be the reverse.

"I could… I could try harder to fulfill them," Jaskier murmured, dread building in his chest at the thought.

"Fuck no! Didn't you hear what I just said? I don't want anything you have to force yourself to do," Geralt growled. "I will not start to fucking sexually abuse you. What kind of a fucking monster do you think I am, you asshole?"

"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean it like that! You're not a monster, Geralt. I know you would never do that," Jaskier said urgently. "I just want to give you everything, every inch of me."

"All that I am," he continued in a quiet whisper. "Every broken piece, all of my heart, _everything_. Geralt, I love you. I want to show it in every possible way. I want it all, I want you. But I… can't…"

Geralt looked completely stunned by the words.

Jaskier hoped he wasn't being too intense. He had known his dams holding everything back would crack the moment he'd be free to express himself. He was greedy with love, had always been. He wanted to receive it, he wanted to give it. But maybe this was too much, too fast for Geralt. The Witcher wasn't used to such strong emotions.

Jaskier wondered if anyone had told Geralt that they loved him before this.

"Jaskier…" Geralt breathed, looking like he had been taken completely off-guard and eyes trailing to the bard's lips.

It made Jaskier ache. This was exactly what he meant. They both wanted also the physical side of a relationship.

"Jaskier, if you aren't comfortable with starting a relationship, I'm completely fine with it. Things don't have to change. Just say the word and I'll drop it," Geralt assured, locking eyes with him. "But if you only hesitate because of not wanting to have sex and having trouble touching in general, you can stop worrying. I don't expect it, I won't demand it, I'll live without it for as long as you want to stay with me if it comes to that."

"Geralt… I want it, by gods, I want your love so badly it hurts. Have for years. Yes, Geralt, yes," Jaskier said brokenly, out of reasons to deny what his heart cried out to be the inevitable. He did not have the strength to resist any longer. He didn't even want to resist. Never had.

"Can I hold your hands, Jaskier?" Geralt asked so tenderly it made Jaskier want to cry again.

"No," Jaskier whispered softly. "Could you please hug me instead?"

"What?"

"A hug. An embrace. I'd like one as long as it's not restraining and you're willing," Jaskier opened his arms, inviting Geralt to comply.

Slowly, each move carefully projected Geralt wrapped arms around him, hands resting so lightly on his back that they barely registered. It was warm, safe, and Jaskier felt incredibly loved as he clutched the Witcher with all of his strength. Geralt's warm breath sent shivers down Jaskier's spine as the Witcher murmured his name in his ear.

Feeling the first pangs of anxiety Jaskier extracted himself from the embrace, not wanting to ruin the far too short moment.

"Thank you, Geralt," there was no reason for Jaskier to hide his loving smile anymore.

Geralt didn't know what to do with everything swirling inside of him. It was a chaos of thoughts and feelings, many of them so new and foreign he didn't even have names for them.

Jaskier loved him.

Despite everything he was: a mutant, foul tempered, terrible at socializing, and so many other things. Yet those didn't matter to the bard, not even the fact that he wasn't a human.

Geralt had known Jaskier found him attractive, had smelled his arousal more than once but never thought anything of it, not since the very beginning. It honestly happened often and aimed at many different people, just a facet of the bard, something he had learned to tune out. And Jaskier had never been shy about at least trying to court those who he was actually interested in, not just finding pleasing. The bard hadn't done that with him.

Yet Jaskier had said he had wanted this for years.

It was hard to comprehend.

"Umm, Geralt? You know how I don't have the best track record with fidelity?" Jaskier said awkwardly, interrupting Geralt's racing thoughts. "It's, ah, mostly because I couldn't truly give my heart to anyone. It was already with you. What I'm saying, is that I don't consider this a fling."

"Good," Geralt hadn't even thought about Jaskier's disastrous history with romance. But now that it was brought up, it was relieving to know they were on the same page.

"I take that is a confirmation it's the same for you."

"Hmmm," it was completely true.

Jaskier gave a deep sigh, massaging his temples. "Geralt? Could you fetch the waterskin? I have yet another headache."

Not surprising with the way he kept crying, Geralt mused as he fulfilled the request. He hoped it wasn't a chronic state that Jaskier just kept ignoring most of the time. Geralt wasn't sure how often the bard had mentioned having a headache. Except it was far less than would be expected with how unhealthy he still was.

"How often do you have them?" Geralt asked, handing a hard biscuit to Jaskier after he had finished drinking.

"Hmmm, I don't know. I kind of stopped paying attention. It's usually just light pressure," Jaskier sounded rather dismissive as if it was normal. "Easy to ignore."

"Start telling me," Geralt grunted.

"You sure you want to hear every time I have even a slight headache? That's going to be often. I told you, I don't even really register them anymore," the bard shrugged as if that made it better.

It made Geralt grind his teeth. It was aggravating how disinterested Jaskier was about his own well-being.

"Chronic pain isn't normal."

"It's just all the crying and stress. Not being able to sleep. What else could you expect, Geralt?" Jaskier waived it away. "And you're one to talk mister It's Just A Gaping Wound."

"At least I treat them," Geralt grumbled. "And heal fast."

"Well, excuse me for not recovering quickly enough," Jaskier glared at him. "I'll be sure to take your schedule into consideration from now on."

"Not what I meant and you know it," Geralt glared right back before continuing in a warmer tone. "Jaskier, you're doing good, getting better. You do realize it?"

Closing his eyes and tilting his head back to face the sun Jaskier sighed. "I guess. Today's been good. Even before all the confessions. I haven't felt like this since before the feast."

"See? These will keep getting more frequent with time."

"I do hope so. You're welcome to profess your love every single day."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THEY IN LOVE
> 
> Don't talk to me about slow burn unless it takes *checks word count * 103 394 words to reach confessions! Or... 115 515 if you count the whole series... WTF HAPPENED?


	50. Chapter 50

Jaskier had trouble believing Geralt loved him. That he didn't have to hide his feelings for the Witcher anymore, could open up his heart and show all it held. It was a wish come true. Jaskier was afraid he would fuck it up, having been too weak after all to deny himself the romantic relationship offered, the one he had so badly yearned for. Afraid he wouldn't be enough for Geralt with all his problems and flaws, with all the things he couldn't give.

"Geralt, you can sleep with other people," the honest words left a bitter taste on Jaskier's tongue.

"What the fuck?" Geralt asked, turning to glare at him.

"Fuck indeed. You can fuck anyone you want to," Jaskier nodded trying to keep his tone light, and focused on not stumbling on roots crossing the forest floor. "Except me for now. I do trust I'm on that list."

"What the hell are you going on about?" Geralt demanded.

"I won't force you into celibacy, Geralt. You can continue on as usual on that front," Jaskier was careful to avert his eyes. He was telling the truth but it was easier to talk like this. "I just want you to come back to me afterwards, to know I still hold your affections."

"I won't do that."

"Come back?" Jaskier asked startled.

"Have sex with others, you idiot," Geralt scoffed.

"Oh. Why?"

"Because I don't want to."

"Geralt, I honestly don't know how long it'll take me to get back to a place where I'll be comfortable with intimacy. You're free to blow off some steam in the meantime," Jaskier explained, turning to finally look at the Witcher. "You don't have to live in constant frustration."

"I don't want anyone else," Geralt stated. "And I have hands to take care of that."

Well, that sure was a thought. Jaskier couldn't stop his eyes straying from Geralt's face to his hands and crotch before dragging them back up.

"Just saying. You're free to change your mind at any point," Jaskier said, unwillingly pleased with Geralt's answer. "I only want to be notified if you're planning on bedding someone."

"Hn."

Geralt didn't seem to think he'd be changing his mind. Jaskier wasn't even half as sure the Witcher wouldn't want to eventually seek that particular pleasure out. Distracted by his thoughts, Jaskier tripped on the uneven ground and would have fallen down if not for grabbing Roach's mane. The mare gave a displeased snort at the sudden tug, making Jaskier produce another sugar cube as an apology.

"Stop spoiling Roach," Geralt ordered. "And get on her. You'll end up falling and breaking your nose if you try to walk."

"You spoil her more," Jaskier pouted, lowering the stirrups and checking the girth was tight enough before mounting.

Jaskier didn't want to admit it but his energy was steadily draining out. It had been a long and emotionally eventful day. He would just have to get through dinner and the evening's performance before he could try to sleep. Maybe, just maybe, the few hours remaining would stay like this.

One day. Just one good day. That was all Jaskier asked for. He hadn't had a complete one since the day before the shit show.

"Was the feast really twenty-two days ago?" Jaskier asked. It felt like both years and yesterday.

"Yeah. Why?"

"No reason, really. Just thinking."

Twenty-one days since getting away from Marden. It was strange how he still was occasionally absolutely sure the dead king would come for him, get what he had wanted, hurt him again. Kept constantly hurting him, in a way. It was nearing a month now. Jaskier felt like he had dropped pieces of himself at the castle and had instead had Marden slither in to fill the empty spaces. It was disgusting. Shaking his head Jaskier forced his mind away from the thought.

A good day. He wasn't going to ruin it by overthinking.

Better to focus on the fact that his feelings weren't unrequited after all.

"I love you, Geralt," Jaskier smiled at the Witcher.

"What was that for?" Geralt asked, looking suspicious. It was kind of ruined by the fact that Geralt was still wearing the flower crown. The Witcher had probably forgotten about it during everything.

"Just marveling the fact that I can say it outloud."

"Hmmm."

It really wasn't a surprise the inn's tavern was as popular as it was with the food they served. Or maybe it was just the fact that everything wasn't tasting like ash today, something that hadn't happened in a few days. One or the other, didn't really matter to Jaskier. But what did matter was that the tavern was fuller than he had seen so far.

Jaskier wondered if it was thanks to his performances.

It was a pleasing thought, having word of his skills traveling through the town and drawing people to see for themselves. Too bad it also meant even more eyes on him once he'd start playing. A curse in a blessing's clothes.

"Guess it's time again, huh?" Jaskier said, turning to look at Geralt. "Behave while I'm working."

All he received was a glare from the Witcher.

After taking a deep bracing breath, Jaskier started to walk away from their table. Five steps. Five meager steps and he had to stop and turn to look at Geralt, make sure the Witcher was still there, still watching out for him. Dear Melitele, he was ridiculously dependent on Geralt. This was about the farthest he had strayed from him in public while surrounded by strangers during all these days. Well, no, he had managed to be more independent before the shock and reality of it all had truly settled in but Jaskier wasn't sure if that counted.

Five fucking steps.

He didn't head back to Geralt.

It was easier to sing today. He had had plenty of practice time and was doing better in general. Jaskier almost felt the first sparks of the usual joy of performing. It didn't catch, got smothered under the anxiety almost immediately but it had been there. He was forced to retreat to Geralt's side after only a handful of songs, afraid his hands would start shaking or chest get too tight to sing otherwise.

Geralt didn't seem disappointed in him and his inability to stay away. Jaskier wasn't sure why.

"That's everything for tonight. Thank you!" Jaskier declared, giving a small bow and sat back down. He was suddenly feeling faint, small tremor making itself known as it gripped his fingers.

"You okay?" Geralt's voice dragged him back to present.

"Uh-huh," Jaskier wasn't sure when he had closed his eyes but it had to have happened since he opened them again. "I'm- I'm fine."

"Hmmm," Geralt didn't look convinced but did let it go as he returned to watching people get up from their seats.

Jaskier struggled to sit straight and act at least half way professional. Appearances, appearances, almost as important as musical skills for a bard. No need to willfully lower people's opinions of him by not even trying. Jaskier was sure there were quite enough new negative tales floating and passing around about him as it was. You can't stomp on a man's dick in the middle of a busy tavern and not expect people to talk about it.

Jaskier was grateful that Geralt was again making sure that people didn't touch him. It was a thin line to walk, to discourage people from doing it without scaring them completely away, yet Geralt managed it rather well. Now that the Witcher was paying attention to how hostile he had been becoming.

Jaskier had just finished thanking a lady for her praise and payment when Geralt tensed, alerting him that something was about to happen.

"Watch it," Geralt snapped at the man from yesterday approaching them again.

Jaskier felt all his blood drain from his cheeks.

"Whoa, easy!" the stranger faltered. Digging his pocket he produced a couple of coins. "I just want to fulfill the role of a good audience after enjoying the performance."

Jaskier was frozen in place, barely breathing. The explanation wasn't helping much, the feeling of danger due what he had done to the man, denying his interest, was flooding him again.

Geralt extended his hand to take the money. "You did. Now go."

"I will," the man was backing away, sounding extremely wary. "Just so you know, I'm not in habit of pestering people who aren't interested. That wasn't my intention, wasn't going to do it. So, uh, please don't kill me?"

"Geralt, can we leave?" Jaskier mumbled, getting some control of his body back.

In answer Geralt got up and made sure no one even thought about taking a step towards them as they left the tavern. Jaskier wasn't exactly sure he had toes anymore, he couldn't feel them. Hearing Geralt lock their door had turned into a familiar comfort. Jaskier walked to sit on the bed, gently placing his lute to lean against it.

"Jaskier?"

"Hello. Uh, yeah, still with you," Jaskier said, tongue heavy. "I just… I just need a minute. Not- not feeling too good."

"Need anything?" Geralt asked, squatting in front of him to hold eye contact.

"Sit with me?" Jaskier requested, trying his hardest to verbalize what was happening. "I'm not safe… I don't… I don't feel safe. It's the same as yesterday. I keep waiting for- for being hurt. For you to be hurt. Or killed."

"I just have more energy to deal with it," he finished in a strangled mumble, worrying his sleeve.

"You're doing well," Geralt informed Jaskier, sitting now next to him. "You're safe. We're both safe. There wasn't any danger yesterday. There's no danger today."

"I trust you think we're safe. I just can't feel it. I can't. At all," Jaskier hunched into himself. "I want to but… I can't stop being afraid. Really, really, afraid."

"It's alright, Jaskier," Geralt sighed. "You'll get there when you're ready. I'm glad you believe me about being safe."

"I know what you're going to ask and no. I can't be touched," it hurt Jaskier to admit. "I'm so, so, sorry."

"Never apologize for it," Geralt said seriously. "Us being in a relationship changes nothing about that. Don't force yourself to do something just because you think it's what I want. I don't."

"Mmm."

"It'd be really fucking insulting. You thinking I care so little about you."

"That's…" Jaskier didn't know how to continue.

"True," Geralt did. "I'll keep repeating it until you believe I want nothing that's not freely given."

"You are far too good for me," Jaskier said in wonderment.

"Shut the fuck up," Geralt looked uncomfortable. "Hell, you deserve better."

"No, you're all I want," Jaskier could breathe normally again, the lingering fear and pain in his chest not hindering it. "Everything."

Jaskier was quite sure Geralt would be bright red if he could. There was the slightest dusting of blush. It made him smile. The Witcher was far cuter than the man could imagine ever being.

"Go the fuck to sleep," Geralt said as he stood up and pointed at the bed before walking out of the room to give Jaskier privacy to change his clothes.

Quite effective way to end a conversation, Jaskier had to admit while unbuttoning his doublet. But Geralt was right, exhaustion was creeping closer again. It was a good idea to try to get some rest. Everything got so much harder to get through when he had no strength left, even the slightest misstep enough to make him crumble down. Jaskier wished he could invite Geralt to sleep next to him but thinking about someone, even Geralt, laying in bed with him only inches away made him shudder. Even he was well aware it'd be too much right now when his emotions were swirling in a turmoil of love, want, and guilt for not being able to give all Geralt deserved.

Jaskier fell off the bed with a cry, hitting the floor painfully. Before he had even an opportunity to try to figure out what was going on, Geralt was kneeling next to him.

"Jaskier, you're safe. Everything's fine, it's safe," Geralt started to recite the familiar words to help him focus on the reality.

"Uhhh… …Yeah…" Jaskier was surprised he actually did have a grip on where and when he was. There were still images flashing behind his eyes and he could feel unwanted touches but they weren't all-consuming. "Hi, Geralt."

"Jaskier?" Geralt too appeared to taken off-guard by not having to coax him back to present.

"Hello. How loud was I?" Jaskier realized he was still laying on the floor so he sat up and strove to get his uneven breaths and tear blurred vision under control. "I don't want to get thrown out of another inn."

"Might have woken someone up. Doesn't matter," Geralt grunted before continuing. "Are you alright?"

"Not really but could be far worse," Jaskier said, brushing last of his escaped tears away. "Just a nightmare. And a new bruise I guess. I think I landed on my shoulder or something."

It was hard to see in the darkness but it looked like Geralt's expression turned pinched as Jaskier rubbed his left shoulder. "It's fine, Geralt. It's not like I broke it."

"Stop getting bruises," Geralt commanded.

"Sure, I'll just order my dreaming mind not to throw myself out of the bed in an attempt to get away from an imaginary threat," Jaskier snorted, letting his hand fall to his lap.

"Fuck this is annoying," he continued. "I hate this, alternating between nightmares and insomnia. Is solid eight hours of uninterrupted sleep really that much to ask for?"

"It'll happen. Eventually."

"Thanks for the pep talk," Jaskier said distracted by an idea. "Sorry for waking you."

With that Jaskier scooted to Geralt's bedroll and flopped down on it.

"What are you doing?" the Witcher asked sounding confused.

"Try getting back to sleep."

"On my bedding?"

"Yep. I don't want to use the bed right now," Jaskier omitted the fact that Geralt's smell clinging to the fabric was making him feel a modicum of extra safety. It wasn't nearly as good as a hug but it was all he could do right now. "Take the bed Geralt. I'm not going to move."

"Seriously, Jaskier?" Geralt grumbled but didn't offer complaints, doing as directed for once.

"Good night, Geralt."

"Night."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...Not the bed sharing Jaskier wished for but...
> 
> Btw, I added a "2nd chapter" to There's Harshness In Your Voice And Softness In Your Hands (3rd part of this series) last night. It's just a silly little ditty Jaskier ended up composing about Geralt, The Mud Wolf. :'D
> 
> Harshness in your voice is a short, funny and very soft h/c one shot with concussed Jaskier.


	51. Chapter 51

Geralt had no fucking idea what he had voluntarily gotten into. He was a Witcher. In love. In a romantic relationship.

"What the fuck, Roach?" Geralt asked the mare as they trotted along a different forest path than yesterday.

Roach didn't deign to share her wisdom with him.

Geralt felt completely out of his element. He didn't know what he was doing, didn't know what was generally expected when entering a relationship, didn't know what Jaskier specifically expected. Was he supposed to start acting differently around the bard? If so, how? Especially since all physical demonstrations of affection were out. It wasn't as if he could currently show his love with kisses or intimate touches. Almost any touches.

Was he supposed to start writing sonnets? Jaskier would definitely do so eventually. Just the thought of all the future songs and poems caused Geralt to groan in exasperation.

Regularly get flowers? That at least was kind of doable.

Pay when dining? He had been already doing that a lot lately so probably didn't count.

What the hell had all the lovers been doing in Jaskier's songs? They were fiction but still better than nothing Geralt decided. Until he realized those songs were mostly about unrequited love or events leading up to romance. He couldn't recall even one that described day-to-day living with a romantic partner.

Useless. Absolutely useless.

Did humans just instinctively know how romance worked?

"Roach, help," Geralt almost begged.

He didn't know how to interpret the snort she gave but it sounded judgemental.

"As if you would do better job," Geralt scoffed back. "I at least share the same language."

Language. Maybe he was expected to start using pet names? That seemed like common behavior. Except even considering calling Jaskier sweetheart made Geralt grimace.

Romantic getaway didn't sound useful either since they were constantly traveling anyway.

"Fuck fucking fuck. What the hell am I supposed to do?"

That had turned into a far too familiar question during the last weeks. Geralt felt like he was constantly slightly off balance, trying to figure out how to help. Everything he did felt so damn inadequate compared to the hurt and scars Jaskier carried. At least he was self-aware enough to know he had somewhat helped the bard in his recovery, still was. But there had to be more he could do. Geralt just didn't know what.

And now there was also the relationship.

Geralt was worried Jaskier would regret the decision when the bard would realize that he had absolutely no clue how to act. Had fuck all. And he had been the one to convince Jaskier this was a good idea. If Jaskier's happiness about his choice wasn't so completely genuine, Geralt would have by now started to think that he had pressured the bard into it. Jaskier would probably cave in and do almost anything he asked him to if pressed. It was a distasteful thought, being able to take advantage of Jaskier without even meaning to. Something about Jaskier's ability to see how consent worked when it came to him had shifted. Maybe it was some sort of self-defense; if he didn't object, he couldn't be forced. Bullshit. That's what it was. Fucking bullshit.

Geralt wanted to shove the facts back into Jaskier's head. There should be more than enough empty space for them.

Sighing, Geralt turned Roach around to start heading back to the inn. The ride hadn't so far gone like Geralt had hoped it would. He still wasn't any closer to figuring out how romance was supposed to work.

Love seriously was a distraction. No wonder Witchers weren't meant for it.

Geralt had no plans to let go of it.

Jaskier felt like he was going stir-crazy as he paced around. There wasn't much he could do to amuse himself within their sparse rented room. He had already worked for as long as he could, a woefully short time, and re-re-organized all of their saddlebags except for Geralt's personal one. It hadn't escaped Jaskier's notice that the scissors were mysteriously missing. It wouldn't be surprising if Geralt was actually carrying them around instead of having relocated them into his bag.

There was nothing else to do aside from sleeping. And while Jaskier did feel the constant undercurrent of exhaustion just as keenly as always, he wasn't tired enough to try to have a nap. He had nothing else to do than pace anxiously around. He needed to get out.

He was frightened to do so. Didn't even know what he would do afterwards.

Sitting back down on the chair, Jaskier forced himself to start whistling since his breaths kept getting more and more shallow and rapid no matter what he had tried. You couldn't hyperventilate and whistle at the same time. It didn't work as well as Jaskier had hoped, whistling was the weaker force.

Something to do. He needed something to divert his attention and nervous energy into. Anything.

Clothes.

Jaskier scrambled to his neatly organized bag and practically threw everything out of it, making his belongings land all around the room in his haste to take out the clothes he had deemed in need of washing. He wasn't sure why he hadn't left them outside the saddlebag in the first place. Hugging them close, Jaskier hesitated in front of the door and tried to convince himself it was fine to step out alone.

He knew it was. He was still terrified.

Peeking his head out into the empty hallway, Jaskier did deem it to be safe enough to venture out. He felt ridiculous about how he was slowly sneaking towards the tavern, ready to bolt back to their room at the first sign of danger like a rabbit. Imagined danger. It'd be absolutely humiliating if someone would end up startling him into fleeing. It wouldn't take much.

Jaskier stopped by the open doorway leading to the tavern, trying to decide if he really could walk to the counter or if he should head back after all. It was rather empty, not many patrons around and none who appeared interested in him. No one was paying any mind to him. It might be safe to cross the room. Maybe. Jaskier missed having Geralt guard his back. He kept waiting for someone to grab him from behind, couldn't stop throwing glances over his shoulder to make sure it wasn't about to happen. He had to look really fucking stupid with the way he was practically creeping along the wall, flinching at every sound that took him by surprise.

It took years getting to the bar.

By the time he reached it, the innkeeper had headed into the backroom. Jaskier knew he should just call out or knock on the wood to draw attention to the fact that there was a customer waiting. But drawing attention was the very last thing he wanted. He wasn't performing, there was no reason for people to suddenly remember he was in the room. It wasn't safe.

"Innkeeper isn't here?"

Jaskier twirled around with a high pitched squeak, somehow having managed to miss the fact that he would soon be joined by another customer. The same dark haired man from before crossed the last few steps to reach the counter, straining his neck to catch a glimpse of the backroom.

"Did you try calling for him?"

Jaskier managed a tiny shake of his head, too scared to blink. The man was standing between him and the direction leading back to the rooms. He wasn't blocking it in any way, had probably simply come from there himself. Jaskier felt trapped.

"Oh, okay. Hey, excuse me! Anyone here?"

Jaskier flinched violently at the shout, taking a few stumbling steps away. Somehow he managed to hug the clothes even tighter.

"Are you alright?" the man asked concern coloring his tone.

Jaskier was too petrified to answer. He wasn't sure if he was even breathing.

"Is this about before? I'm sorry if it is."

"What can I do for you?" that was the innkeeper, Jaskier thought absently.

"I think something's wrong with the bard."

There were footsteps as the innkeeper rounded the counter, stopping in front of him. At least Jaskier guessed it was him, his vision was starting to get blurry with tears. He couldn't move.

"Hey, what's wrong? Can we help?"

"He hasn't been answering me. And that happened after I called for you. I think the yell scared him."

They were talking about him, focusing on him. Jaskier wanted to run. Only thing he managed was not being able to keep a sob from wrenching its way out.

"Jaskier? Can you tell us what's going on? Actually, you-"

"Pietro."

"Pietro, go to the kitchen. Ask Zofia to get the quilt. It's backroom and left door."

There were footsteps receding. Air too seemed to be receding with the way Jaskier couldn't get it in.

"Jaskier? Will you come with me to the kitchen, please? I know the Witcher is currently out, otherwise I would have him be summoned. I don't think it's a good idea for you to be alone right now."

It wasn't a question. There was nothing Jaskier could do about it so he took a slow reluctant steps forward.

"That's it. Easy does it. Thank you, Jaskier."

Why wasn't he being grabbed or groped? Touched at all? Hit?

"You can sit here."

Jaskier landed in a chair, legs practically giving out the moment he wasn't made to walk anymore. Something warm and heavy was placed on his shoulders.

"Can I do something?"

"Yeah, could you go wait for the Witcher, Pietro? If you're not busy."

"Nothing pressing."

Jaskier's chest hurt with the force of his sobs and the way his lungs couldn't draw enough air in. His fingers still clutching the laundry were tingling so badly it felt like tiny lightning bolts were running through them.

"Jaskier, you don't really know us but I swear you're safe here. The Witcher will come back soon too and Pietro will lead him here right away. You just need to try to calm down, take deep breaths. Can you do that?"

Jaskier only curled further into himself, forehead brushing his knees now.

"You do remember who I am, right Jaskier? I'm Brajan or the innkeeper like you probably call me. We've talked a couple of times. You're in our kitchen. Take deep breaths, in and out. Slowly."

The absolute, all-consuming panic was starting to recede but it wasn't replaced by the feeling of safety, not like when Geralt was the one coaxing him. Jaskier wished fervently Geralt was here to help him. Everything was still so confusing, he wasn't even sure where he was. Not in their room. The voice talking him through was unfamiliar. Jaskier didn't know where-

"...Geralt…" was. It wasn't safe. He wasn't safe. Would be hurt any second.

"The Witcher? He'll be here soon. We'll lead him to you as soon as he returns. Focus on your breathing, okay?"

"Mmmm."

Jaskier was finally starting to get his lungs to work, to let enough air in for his head to clear a little bit. His fingers were flesh again instead of lightning. The heavy thing on his shoulders was some sort of a blanket. He was sitting in a chair near a hot oven. There was a strange man squatting in front of him. Jaskier startled so badly his flinch was enough to topple the chair, making him fall on his back and see stars as his head met the floor.

"Whoa! Are you alright?"

Jaskier managed to rise to his shaking knees, eyes glued to the man. Who looked familiar. Huh.

"Brajan, I'm Brajan. I own this inn. We've talked before."

"Uhhhh…" Jaskier did recognize him now.

"Want to sit here a little longer? Have some tea? The Witcher's still out," Brajan offered, not getting closer.

Jaskier wasn't sure why. It'd be so easy to grab him like this. Instead the innkeeper just righted the chair and walked to take a mug off a shelf. Not knowing what else to do, Jaskier slowly moved to sit in the chair again, looking around and trying to piece everything back together to figure out what was going on.

It felt even weirder when Brajan offered the mug using a tray instead of shoving it into his hands.

"...What…?" Jaskier managed to mumble, staring into his tea.

"Pietro alerted me something was wrong. I knew the Witcher is out so I thought this would be the best option," Brajan explained, holding the quilt that had dropped from Jaskier's shoulders out for him again. "Didn't want to leave you alone in that state."

"Why?" Jaskier whispered, wrapping the warm fabric around himself again. He didn't understand what was happening.

"Would be cruel not to try to help," came the easy answer as Brajan moved to putter around, keeping within Jaskier's field of vision all of the time.

"Oh… I… Thank you…?" it was bewildering. The innkeeper didn't know him aside from their brief transactions yet the man was trying to help.

Had helped. Hadn't done anything else.

Not even when there was absolutely no chance of trying to defend against him. Jaskier knew he wasn't safe but maybe he wasn't in immediate danger either.

"Jaskier!"

Ah, Geralt was back.

"Hey, Witcher!"

Geralt had barely crossed the threshold of the inn when the call rang out. Turning to look but not stopping, he saw the dark haired asshole from before waving him to come to the counter. He could fuck off, Geralt had more important things to do.

"The bard's not in your room!"

That made Geralt march up to him, growl building in his chest. "What?"

"I don't really know what happened but he suddenly couldn't breathe and was just crying so the innk-"

"Where is he?" the Witcher snarled. He didn't have time for prattling.

"Kitchen," the asshole squeaked, color draining from his face. Geralt was already moving before he could finish the word.

Seeing Jaskier sit in a chair holding a steaming mug and wrapped in a quilt wasn't what Geralt had expected. It was far better than anything his mind had supplied. The bard was white as snow, eyes bloodshot, and shaking but all in all seemed unharmed. Maybe he didn't have to kill anyone. Maybe.

"...Hi, Geralt…" Jaskier greeted feebly.

"Jaskier, are you hurt? What happened?" Geralt kneeled in front of the bard, trying to discern any possible sign of harm.

"...I'm fine. I meant to order laundry service…" Jaskier murmured into his tea. "It just… got too much, I guess. I'm sorry. Didn't mean to trouble anyone. I'm sorry. So sorry. "

Shit, Jaskier was starting to get stuck in that loop again.

"You have nothing to apologize for. Sometimes things happen," the innkeeper interjected before Geralt had time to open his mouth. "It's no trouble at all to help someone."

Geralt instinctively covered more of Jaskier behind his body in a defensive move as he turned to face the man. If the innkeeper had pushed Jaskier off the brink…

"Peace Witcher. I'm not going to do anything," Brajan said placatingly, staying still. "I just want to help."

"Why?" Geralt asked suspicious. People didn't put their work aside for a stranger who was acting oddly, not without wanting something.

"Like I told Jaskier, it'd be cruel not to try. And my oldest daughter has similar looking attacks," Brajan sighed. "Doesn't sit right with me to ignore someone going through one."

"Oh… So that's why…" Jaskier trailed off.

"Why what?" Geralt asked sharply, not liking having no knowledge of what had transpired while he had been out riding.

"Why he knew what to do," Jaskier said quietly, still not lifting his face.

"Hoped it'd work. Couldn't really do the exact same things that I can with my daughter," the innkeeper smiled sadly before making shooing motions at the doorway where his wife had appeared. "Sorry about that. I can't put work off for a much longer."

"It's none of my business, you don't have to answer, but have you had them for long?" Brajan continued, sounding tentative.

"Fuck off," Geralt growled. There was no reason for anyone to question Jaskier.

"...No," Jaskier didn't seem to share his opinion, even if he did sound reluctant. And ashamed. "Less than a month."

Fuck that latter emotion.

"Hmmm, maybe it'll help to hear that my daughter has attacks very rarely anymore. Got her first one when she was only a teenager, she's a new mother now. Not even she knows what started them but she's gotten good at dealing with the attacks. Figured out ways to calm herself."

Maybe Jaskier did have a point about listening to the innkeeper, Geralt granted. Silently. And kept tracking every movement the man made, ready to pounce.

"How?" there was hope in Jaskier's voice.

"That quilt, for one, the weight helps her. But why don't you take an evening off, Jaskier? We can talk in the morning when I have more time," Brajan said, distracted by placing bread in the oven to be baked.

"The room-" Jaskier started worriedly but stopped as the innkeeper shook his head.

"It'll keep. If anything, a break in performances will bring more people back tomorrow. Let them use their coin today to drink away their sorrows of missing you sing."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Outside help??!!?
> 
> Btw, taking a long weekend again. Tomorrow's dnd night. :3 
> 
> I'm thinking about starting a new update schedule in general, mon-wed-fri from next week forward. The average length of the chapters has gone up so much that they take almost double the time to write. :'D


	52. Chapter 52

Jaskier kept clutching the heavy quilt around himself as he sat on the bed, leaning against the headboard. It was kind how Brajan had told him to return it tomorrow. The innkeeper had been incredibly kind in general.

Jaskier wasn't sure what to think of it.

Instead he drew his knees up and called out softly. "Geralt? Could you sit with me?"

"How are you feeling?" Geralt asked, studying him with a worried frown after settling down.

"I don't know," Jaskier could feel his cheeks heating up as he thought of what had happened.

It was beyond humiliating, having broken down like that in front of strangers. Had to be pity instead of kindness that Brajan had been showing him after all. Giving reassurances to your own daughter was very different from having to calm down an unfamiliar and hysterical grown man. Honestly, why had the innkeeper bothered to take time to do so when he was aware the attack wasn't even dangerous? Brajan should just have thrown him out or something for disturbing everyone. No wonder he didn't want a bard like him performing.

"Stop overthinking," Geralt huffed, halting his careening mind. "You're practically vibrating with stupid thoughts."

"Talk," the Witcher commanded as Jaskier only shook his head mutely.

"I'm pathetic, the place was practically empty," Jaskier muttered, hiding his face into his bent knees. "I keep causing trouble for everyone."

"You can't do as much as you want. So what? We'll just work on it. Fuck everyone else, they don't matter," Geralt countered before nodding at the quilt Jaskier still wore. "And the innkeeper obviously doesn't think you cause trouble."

"He just pities me instead."

"It's not pity. Can't believe I'm saying this but… he seems to just want to help," Geralt sounded reluctant in his admission.

It was jarring enough for Jaskier to lift his head to look at the Witcher. "Help?"

"Help."

"You suddenly think people just want to help?" Jaskier asked incredulous.

"Fuck no!" Geralt scoffed. "But Brajan might be one of the few half-decent ones. Maybe. I won't leave you alone with him for another second. He tries anything, I'll cut his fucking head off."

"Hmmm, that's a nice sentiment but please don't," Jaskier hummed quietly. "Can I lean on you?"

"Always."

Jaskier gently shifted so he could rest his head on Geralt's shoulder. Letting the Witcher bear a part of his weight as he settled against his arm and side, angling himself to slightly face Geralt.

"Thank you."

"Jaskier, you don't have to keep asking permission to touch me. You can just do it whenever you feel like it. I won't mind," Geralt said, doing his best to peer into Jaskier's eyes. "I'm fine with it."

"No. No. I have to. What if I don't ask and- and you didn't want it? I can't-" Jaskier felt like he was being submerged in icy cold water. "It's- No. I can't."

"You don't have to stop," Geralt told him. "If you think it's important then keep doing it, Jaskier. But you won't hurt me if you do touch without asking."

"What if you don't want it?" Jaskier would rather cut his own hands off than make the Witcher uncomfortable with any sort of unwanted contact.

"Have I ever had a problem with telling you to stop doing things that piss me off?"

"But then I'd have already done it," Jaskier wouldn't make Geralt feel disgusting in his own skin. He would not.

"That's why I would ask you to stop," Geralt huffed, clearly not understanding.

Jaskier wanted to explain. But he didn't want to draw attention to how filthy, how tainted, he still was, how he couldn't scrub Marden's touches away. At least not with just towels and washbasins. The river had helped, making it possible to get clean for a while. That's why it was so tempting. Geralt might start noticing those ugly parts if pointed out. It wasn't fair or right to let Geralt stay oblivious but he just wasn't brave enough to willfully draw attention to those invisible stains.

Jaskier was perfectly aware of how weak he really was.

"Sorry for being annoying, asking each time," Jaskier muttered, ungluing himself from Geralt's side and making his way to look out of the window. The echoing touches were returning again. Jaskier knew they wouldn't spill over to the Witcher but he still didn't want to chance it. Didn't want to leave any possibility of Marden getting his hands on Geralt, no matter how small.

"Jaskier," Geralt grumbled displeased. "You have my permission to touch me whenever you want to. Doesn't mean you can't keep asking, it's not even annoying."

"Hmmm."

"Do you want to come sit again?"

"Mm."

"Jaskier?"

The street under their window was almost empty, only few passerby hurrying along in the rapidly darkening evening. It'd probably start raining soon. The clouds looked heavy. And it hadn't done so in a couple of days now. It was a relief Roach wouldn't have to stand it in, would stay warm and dry in the stable where she had hay and company. The glass was cool against Jaskier's temple. A crisp and sharp feeling, the only thing that seemed real. Time was molasses and Marden's fingers kept burning someone else's skin.

A loud and clear sound rang out and Jaskier swiveled around to see what it had been. Geralt was standing maybe two steps away from him, hands positioned close to each other.

"Jaskier?" the Witcher ventured, brows furrowed. "You with me?"

"..." Jaskier wondered if the sound matched the movements his lips made.

"Jaskier, talk to me."

But he ha- Oh.

This wasn't good.

Geralt, Jaskier tried again. No, there was no reaction from the Witcher. Didn't say it outloud then. Jaskier felt like he was underwater. Except this time it wasn't pleasant. Kept dragging him down and making him numb instead. He could still breath.

A sharp clap startled Jaskier, drawing his attention back to Geralt.

"...Geralt…"

The Witcher let out a relieved puff of air. Jaskier guessed he had managed to say the name out loud this time.

"Jaskier. Talk to me, I don't care about what."

"...The lute's... strings are… arranged in courses… of two strings each... But the highest-pitched course consists of one- one single string called _the chanterelle_ ," Jaskier started to explain, flexing his fingers to force feeling into them. "Which means that my seven-course lute has thirteen strings."

Re-arranging the quilt still around his shoulders in a better position, Jaskier stepped to stand right in front of the Witcher. "Hi, Geralt."

"Here again, Jaskier?" Geralt asked looking worried.

"Yeah, here again. Didn't expect that," Jaskier said, shifting his weight nervously from foot to foot. "Not like I notice it well when it's happening, but it's been a while, right? I haven't been drifting much lately?"

"No. You haven't."

"Oh, good. This? Not so good."

"Jaskier, do you know what triggered it? Specifically? Since that wasn't our first conversation about consent," Geralt kept frowning at him, lips thin and eyes concerned.

"Maybe. And no, I don't want to share. Not now," Jaskier sighed, stepping past Geralt to reach the bed again. "Wasn't anything you did. Everything is just… a lot right now. Can we shelve it for later?"

"Fine."

Geralt didn't sound fine with it in the least. Thankfully he still let it go for now.

Jaskier was nervous as he folded the quilt into a neat square so he could return it. Might be a good idea to fashion something similar for regular use, the warm pressure had been helpful.

"Geralt, you'll stay with me, right?" Jaskier checked for the umpteenth time as they readied to go down.

"Yes," Geralt was starting to sound annoyed and insulted by the constant questioning. Jaskier did want to stop doing it.

He just was so terribly anxious about telling a stranger anything, even a small part, of what was going on. Pity or kindness, Brajan's offer to talk sounded too good to pass. Someone who actually knew something about this… Jaskier needed it. He and Geralt both needed it.

Brajan was at the bar, talking with his wife as they arrived.

"Good morning," he greeted with a smile. "I hope you feel better, Jaskier?"

"Yes. Thank you," Jaskier answered quietly, placing the quilt on the counter. Geralt was again a steadying presence, guarding him and offering silent support.

"I guess you don't want to talk about this in public where anyone can overhear. Mind coming to the kitchen? Not the inn's, the family one," Brajan asked, drawing the right conclusion.

At Jaskier's nod, the innkeeper gave his wife a small peck on the cheek in parting and gestured them to follow him.

"Can I hold your hand?" Jaskier whispered almost inaudibly to Geralt.

He was scared to follow the man out of his own free will. Last time he had done that to someone had been the prelude to all of this mess. Gently and silently taking his hand, Geralt led him after Brajan. They turned the opposite way than yesterday in the backroom and entered what clearly were the family living quarters.

It was an awkward silence as they sat at the dining table nursing their drinks, no one knowing how to start the conversation.

"Well. We probably should begin. I asked Olga yesterday if this is fine with her, if you worried about that. She didn't want to come talk with you in person but let me know it's fine for me to share things," Brajan broke the silence.

It was a relief to hear the innkeeper wasn't sharing such intimate details without her daughter's permission. Geralt too gave an approving grunt.

"I don't know how helpful I can be, this isn't my specialty, but I'll try my best. You said it's been less than a month? Do you have those attacks often?" the innkeeper continued.

Jaskier felt like he was burning with shame. "Yes… Daily, I think, sometimes more than once…"

Brajan seemed taken aback, obviously not expecting him to be as big of a disaster as he was. "That's… Well. Wouldn't have guessed with the quality of your performances. You're doing pretty incredible job. Olga at least is always tired after one."

"Agreed," Geralt opened his mouth for the first time and gave a gentle squeeze in reassurance. They hadn't yet untwined their fingers.

Jaskier almost scoffed. The only incredible thing was his inability to function like a normal person.

"Do you know what started them?" Brajan asked with concern.

Jaskier sure as fuck knew the cause. And he was not going to share with a stranger the fact that he had been kidnapped, blackmailed, molested, and beaten within something like twelve hours. Fuck no. It would only give more options and better knowledge how to hurt him. And Jaskier couldn't shake the feeling of shame and guilt of not having seen it coming, not having been able to defend himself or Geralt.

Instead he gave a small nod, tears threatening to well up.

"It could be useful to-" Brajan didn't get a chance to finish.

"Jaskier doesn't have to share anything with you," Geralt snapped, grip on Jaskier's hand tightening protectively.

"Of course!" the innkeeper hurried to say, obviously alarmed by the Witcher's reaction. "You really don't have to tell me anything you don't want to, Jaskier."

Jaskier gave another nod, forcing the tears to retreat with a sniffle. This was starting to feel like a horrible idea. It was still damn hard to acknowledge what had happened. It was so fucking much.

"Okay, okay, you know the cause, that's good. Will probably help with figuring out what could help. You must have some ways to cope by now, right?" Brajan moved on hastily. "Mind sharing?"

"Geralt helps by talking to me, sometimes holding hands. Breath control," Jaskier mumbled voice thick.

"Nothing else?" Brajan was again obviously concerned. "That's it?"

"Pretty much."

The innkeeper pressed his lips together into a thin line and shook his head. "I can definitely offer more tools if that really is all you've figured out."

There was a warning sound from Geralt at the words.

"I'm not trying to insult you," Brajan defended himself. "But there's a lot of other things to try."

"Share," Geralt ordered.

"These are things that help Olga, so I don't know how well they'd work for you," With a nod the innkeeper started to list options. "The quilt you already know. Hugs are better while she's having the attack itself, might want distance later. Also, she always wears bead necklaces and bracelets. She can fidget with them and count the beads to refocus on something concrete. Likes listing things in her environment too, visual, tactile, smells, all sort of things. And moving to somewhere quiet."

"Lately she's been trying to meditate. Isn't going very well, though. Doing something concrete to ground herself works better," Brajan continued. "Herbal remedies too. I asked Zofia, my wife, what that tea I offered yesterday holds. Apparently it's mostly chamomile, lavender, valeria and rosehip. I've heard there's also actual potions but those would be so far from our price range that we haven't even confirmed it."

"That's…" Jaskier hadn't even considered there could be that many things he could try instead of pretty much just letting the attacks run their course while trying to make it more bearable. He was sure most of it was already disappearing from his memory. It had been kind of difficult to retain new information lately. Hopefully Geralt would remember better.

"Thank you," Jaskier breathed, not knowing what else to say.

It was so hard to believe Brajan, someone he had no connection to, was taking the time to help him. Suddenly Jaskier realized he hadn't confirmed what the man wanted in return.

Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck. Oh fuck. Why didn't he _learn?_

"What do you want from me as payment?" Jaskier asked, breaths hitching.

Geralt was here.

Geralt was here. Brajan wouldn't dare to do anything. Geralt was here.

He wouldn't be able to be at his side all the time.

Brajan owned this inn. He held spare keys to all of the rooms.

"Jaskier, breath. You're safe. Jaskier, you're safe. There's no threat here. You just need to take deep breaths."

That was Geralt. Geralt. Geralt would do all he could to keep him safe. Would be leading him away from here if there was something dangerous around. Had done it multiple times before.

Jaskier didn't know what Brajan wanted to do with him.

"You're safe, Jaskier. I promise. No one will force you to do anything or do anything to you. You're safe. You just need to focus on me," Geralt continued soothing him. "You're safe."

"Ask him to list something in this room."

"Jaskier, can you tell me what you see?" Geralt coaxed him. "Look around. What's here?"

With difficulty Jaskier lifted his head to survey the area through his tears, forcing words out in between useless breaths. "...A table…"

"That's it. What else?"

"...You… Mugs. Chairs…"

"Good. Keep going, Jaskier."

"Pots. Pans. A ladle," Jaskier focused his gaze on the Witcher's eyes. "Hi."

Geralt offered him a small smile. "Hey."

Jaskier wished to melt against his side. He didn't want to do it in front of the innkeeper. With wary eyes Jaskier turned to look at Brajan.

The man looked surprised, obviously not having expected him to have a panic attack while talking about ways to cope. Well. If Brajan hadn't had figured out what kind of a fucking walking disaster he was, this definitely made it clear.

"I'm sorry," Jaskier whispered at him.

"Ah, no need to apologize… That's- that's what's this was for," the innkeeper gathered himself. "Also, I don't want anything in return."

Jaskier felt self-conscious about the way Brajan was looking at him, trying to connect the dots. Trying to figure out what had broken him. Hopefully he would come to wrong conclusion.

"Please. Just tell me," Jaskier said. He needed to know, give something so Brajan wouldn't reconsider later.

"But I really don't," Brajan protested.

"Just answer the question," Geralt grunted, shooting a meaningful look at the innkeeper.

"Uh… You could pay for the last night after all?"

Jaskier gave a relieved sigh. That was something he could easily do. Placing the appropriate sum on the table, Jaskier rose on shaky legs. He wanted to leave.

"Thank you for the advice. I'm also really sorry for this," Jaskier couldn't look at Brajan, fearing the expression he would wear. "So sorry."

"Don't apologize. It's fine," the innkeeper said, staying seated. "I hope I could help. Feel free to come talk to me again."

Wiping stray tears away, Jaskier gave a nod and started towards the door after making sure Geralt was coming.

He was surprised to hear the Witcher thank Brajan for his help.

[Btw, I've got an art instagram](https://www.instagram.com/damatris92/)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Jaskier, you just need a little bit time to adjust to suddenly interacting this much with strangers.
> 
> Also, I didn't mean to draw that pic when I opened my art program. And most definitely didn't mean to spend as much time on it as I did. I made myself sad while drawing it. :'D


	53. Chapter 53

Once again Geralt wished Jaskier would chat like he used to, fill the silence resting over them. Instead the bard was quietly observing the street from their window, only giving a brief word occasionally if something interesting happened or if Geralt himself addressed him. Jaskier's silences still felt eerie.

Placing the dagger he had been sharpening back in its sheath, Geralt decided to start talking since the bard obviously wasn't going to do so. "That was useful. Brajan brought up good points about what we could try. Focusing on your surroundings seemed to shorten the panic attack. And you can do that when alone too."

"Yeah…" Jaskier sighed, turning away from the window. "Could have done without the test run."

"I bet."

"I should have asked what he wanted in return before agreeing to anything. Why the fuck didn't I do it?" Jaskier asked distraught.

"Because you want to trust in people. Even if you can't currently," Geralt stated calmly, sure of what he said.

"That's… true," Jaskier mumbled, looking thoughtful. "I don't want to stay scared and suspicious of everyone. I think I do have some faith in Brajan now, he probably doesn't want to hurt us. He could have done anything to me yesterday. But he didn't. Just wrapped me in a blanket and gave tea."

"He's not a threat," Geralt confirmed. It was good that Jaskier was trying to reason against his fear of people.

"Can I have a hug, Geralt?" Jaskier asked, looking like he expected to be refused.

"Yes. Always. Absolutely," Geralt was sure his face was melting into some utterly embarrassingly smitten expression at the quiet request. It felt like Jaskier was bestowing him with a precious gift.

Crossing the room, Geralt opened his arms to let Jaskier close the distance before gently wrapping him in an embrace. The hug was over almost as soon as it had started but the warmth it had kindled in Geralt's heart stayed.

"Thank you," Geralt said without thinking.

"What?"

Shit. Well, he had already started so might just fucking continue. "For trusting me to hug you. Even after I restrained you."

"I forgived you a long time ago. Oh, shit, did I ever say that outloud?" Jaskier fretted. "I'm so sorry if I never did!"

"Hmmm," Geralt wanted to soothe that expression away from Jaskier's face. "Calm down, Jaskier."

"Yeah, yeah, deep breaths," the bard nodded, starting to do exactly that.

"Do you feel up to going out? We could go buy those herbs, find a seamstress, things like that," Geralt asked. He was not going to let Brajan's suggestions go to waste.

"I think so. I've had time to unwind from earlier," Jaskier mused.

It was great to see Jaskier was actually thinking instead of just immediately agreeing. Maybe, just maybe the bard was finally starting to listen to himself and what he could or couldn't do. Maybe. Geralt wasn't too optimistic about it.

"Any ideas what could work for you as something to play with when starting to get anxious?" Geralt asked as he buckled his sword belt on.

"Please don't word it like that," Jaskier protested flushing in embarrassment. "It makes it sound like I need a fucking toy like a child. This is humiliating enough without it."

"Jaskier, there's _nothing_ to be ashamed of. You're hurt," Geralt said deadly serious. "It just needs a different sort of treatment."

He didn't want Jaskier to stay ashamed of what had happened or how it had affected him. Ashamed of himself. It kept stabbing Geralt's heart every time the bard even alluded to feeling like that. There was absolutely no reason for Jaskier to think so little of himself.

"Mmmm," Jaskier didn't sound convinced. "Anyway, no, I don't really know. I guess something beaded is good enough for now at least. We'll see if it works."

"Let's find something like that then," Geralt nodded resolute. "Tell me the moment shopping starts to feel like too much, Jaskier. I mean it."

Being next to Geralt was still impossible in such a crowded place, forcing Jaskier to walk half a step behind the Witcher and use him as a shield. Jaskier really wished he could manage to do such a basic thing. No matter what Geralt insisted, this was embarrassing, not enduring such small and inconsequential things.

"Market first? It's the busiest," Geralt checked once more even as they were already heading there.

"Best to take care of the worst place first," Jaskier agreed. It'd be a bad idea to go there when he would already be tired and on edge from everything. He didn't want to fall apart in the middle of a crowd.

He didn't want to do it at all.

It honestly was a good thing right now that people tended to skirt around Geralt, giving the Witcher more space than they did for others. It made things easier. It didn't take very long to find a vendor selling various jewelry varying from wooden to precious metals. With a glance at Geralt, Jaskier started to browse the wooden necklaces, testing the feeling of beads under his fingers. There actually was something calming about fidgeting with them, having a concrete object to focus the nervous energy coursing through him.

Lifting one of necklaces off the table, Jaskier saw Geralt finish a transaction of his own. Huh. He wouldn't have guessed Geralt would want something for himself. After paying silently Jaskier followed Geralt to a quieter nook, slightly away from the hustle and bustle. Wearing something around his neck felt strange, being used to only rings. But suddenly having something around his wrists might interfere with playing his lute and he didn't want to chance it.

"Looks good," Geralt said, nodding at the necklace.

"Thanks," Jaskier replied quietly, lifting it for inspection. "I thought having something made from various materials might be useful."

It wasn't flashy, consisting mostly from dark midnight blue wooden beads with some yellow ones of different shape and fewer brass ones, and about the same length as Geralt's pendant.

"Shouldn't clash too much with most of my clothes," Jaskier sighed. "Feels weird to wear it."

"You'll get used to it. Here," Geralt offered him a small carved ring box.

"That was fast. Already proposing when we got together only two days ago?" Jaskier lifted his eyebrows in surprise and a teasing smile on his lips.

Unimpressed, Geralt deposited it in Jaskier's waiting hand. "Thought the carvings might work the same way as the beads."

"Thank you," Jaskier said while running his fingers over the geometric pattern decorating all sides except the bottom. "Where next?"

"Seamstress," Geralt stated and started towards the crowd again.

Finding one took longer than expected and forced Geralt to actually ask for directions. Jaskier felt almost bad for the Witcher, not being able to take care of it himself.

Jaskier was startled by a cheerfully jingling bell as they stepped in the store. Only seconds later a middle-aged woman hurried from deeper in the shop to greet them.

"Hello! How can I help you?" she asked with a smile.

"A quilt," Jaskier said nervously. Why did it have to be so hard to talk to anyone else than Geralt?

"We have some over here," the seamstress gestured them to follow as she headed towards one of the shelves full of ready-made products.

"It, ah, probably has to be custom made…" Jaskier trailed off hesitantly.

"Do you have a particular pattern in mind? Or colors?" she turned to face them again.

"No. It just… it just needs to be …heavy," it felt such a weird request.

"Heavy? As in extremely warm?" the seamstress asked, making Jaskier inch closer to the Witcher.

"As in weight," Geralt informed her.

"That does have to be specifically made for you then," the woman nodded. "Let me think for a moment how to execute the weight. We can browse the fabrics at the same time."

Jaskier felt completely lost as he stood in front of rolls of various fabrics, not having spared a single thought for aesthetics. Picking out something for clothes had never been difficult. This should be easier. Looking helplessly to Geralt, he only got a shrug in response. Right, the Witcher was completely out of his comfort zone.

"What's your favorite color? That's a good place to start," the seamstress advised, seeing him flounder.

"Um, blue."

"Single or multiple colors?"

"Single," it'd mean less decisions. And make it cheaper.

"Now you just choose a shade from these. I think I have a solution for the weight. I could use a thin layer of wheat to fill it," the seamstress explained. "Make it kind of similar to a large wheat pillow, those that you can warm up to treat aches, but keep the grain better contained so it won't move around."

At Jaskier's nod she continued to ask for more details and carried the roll of the chosen fabric to a large table to be cut. As she told the price before starting to do so, Jaskier stopped at his tracks. He hadn't expected it to be that expensive. It didn't feel overpriced but he had guessed the cost completely wrong.

"Ah… I'm so sorry for having wasted your time. I- I can't afford it. I'm so, so, sorry," Jaskier said quietly, feeling absolutely horrible for having troubled the seamstress for nothing. She had to have orders waiting to be finished. "So sorry."

"I'll cover half of it," Geralt stated, already taking his purse out.

"Geralt no. I've been just fine without one so far. I don't need it," Jaskier protested. "Don't waste your money on me."

"We're taking it. Even if you don't want to use money on it, I'm still buying it."

"Should I cut the fabric or not?" the seamstress asked, holding scissors and looking at them bemused.

"No."

"Yes."

"Please decide," she sighed.

"I'm buying it," Geralt stated, tone booking no arguments.

With a nod the seamstress started to cut the fabric to Jaskier's charing. No backing out now.

"Geralt, I'll cover the cost as much as I can." it was the least he could do since Geralt had been too stubborn not to throw his money away.

"Half. Don't use all of your coin when you don't have to," Geralt countered, placing his share on an empty spot on the table.

With a defeated exhale Jaskier did the same. Guilt was niggling in his chest, making it heavy and tight. It was getting hard to focus on anything else. Lifting his hand to his new necklace, Jaskier tried to note the shapes and textures of the beads, the way they felt under his fidgeting fingers, the slight clacks as they moved against each other.

His throat was still tight.

"Thanks. We have to go now," Geralt informed the woman and quickly herded Jaskier out of the shop, guiding him to a nearby alley.

"Jaskier, don't stop breathing. Everything is just fine. There's nothing dangerous or wrong."

"Uh-huh," Jaskier replied, taking shuddery breaths and kept fidgeting with the necklace. It was strangely helpful activity. "...Yeah. It's just… I'm not worth of you throwing your money away for such a frivolous thing. That quilt is expensive. I'd be fine without it, have made due so far."

"I want you to have it," Geralt locked eyes with him, looking sincere. "I saw Olga's help. If it can give you even some peace it's more than worth the cost."

Jaskier shook his head but didn't have time to open his mouth as Geralt continued. "I didn't use all of the reward for the kikimora in the last town. And took care of the drowners there. I'm not lacking in coin, especially as you're taking care of keeping our room. What I do with my money is my business and if I want to use it on you, that's my choice."

"Geralt…" Jaskier didn't know how to make the Witcher see paying for such a valuable comfort item was too much. That he wasn't something Geralt should use his hard earned coins. So he just closed his eyes and gave up without further protests. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. Feeling up to going to the apothecary or do you want to head back to the inn? We can finish later." Geralt asked.

Jaskier really liked how the Witcher kept asking for his opinions, giving him a choice. It still felt huge, having control over what would happen. It shouldn't. It was just how life normally went.

"It's the last stop, let's take care of it," Jaskier decided. He had had time to gather himself a bit.

Finding an apothecary didn't take nearly as long as locating the seamstress had. It was a good thing. While Jaskier did want to finish everything they had set out to do, he couldn't deny getting exhausted and having his nerves getting more and more frayed the longer they stayed among people. He would need to get away soon. The breaks they had taken in quiet places had helped but they didn't grant miracles.

They entered just as another customer was finishing up, leaving them soon as the only ones. The air was thick with the smell of various herbs and concoctions, making it border on unpleasant. Jaskier wondered how horrible it had to smell to the Witcher with his heightened senses.

Jaskier gave Geralt a beseeching look and nodded towards the shopkeeper. He didn't have it in himself to do any transactions or have any other sort of interactions with strangers. He would just shut down.

"Dried chamomile, lavender, valeria and rosehip. They're for tea," Geralt said without preamble as he walked to the counter.

"To soothe nerves and help to sleep, I presume?" the pharmacist asked as she went to retrieve jars holding them. "Do you want me to mix them for you?"

"Half of it," Geralt nodded. "I want to be able to determine the best blend later by myself."

"Do you need actual sleeping draughts too?" the pharmacist asked as she weighted the requested amounts. "If the insomnia is severe, this probably won't be a reliable treatment while helpful."

Jaskier couldn't help but wince, already knowing Geralt's answer. The Witcher was burning through his budget like he had no care for tomorrow. Jaskier swore he would shove coins at Geralt the moment they were in their room again. The Witcher was spending far, far, too much on him.

"Yes."

Jaskier would have liked to be wrong. He also would like to be able to open his mouth to tell Geralt not to buy any. He couldn't make a sound, not while sharing a space with a stranger. She hadn't paid much attention to him so far as he stood still, almost hiding, behind the Witcher.

Jaskier didn't want that to change.

The walk back to the inn was horrible, Jaskier kept flinching each time someone strayed close even if they didn't touch. The one time someone had accidentally brushed against him had left him almost crying, breaths turning irregular. The silence and safety of their room was a blessing. Removing his boots, Jaskier curled on the bed, not bothering to burrow under the covers.

"Jaskier, are you alright?" Geralt asked softly. "Was it too much?"

"No. Yes. I don't know," Jaskier mumbled. He was completely spent.

"You did great," Geralt reassured him. "Mind if I sit with you?"

Jaskier stayed silent for a moment, trying to figure out if the terrible feeling churning in his stomach included Geralt's presence if the Witcher got close. It didn't.

"You can do it."

Geralt got gingerly on the bed, careful not to touch. With a sigh Jaskier turned onto his other side so he could face the Witcher.

"Thank you, Geralt. For everything. I'm grateful for it even though I honestly wish you hadn't spent so much. I'll pay you back as much as I can and you can't do anything to stop me," Jaskier said, doing his best to glare. He was too exhausted to manage even a weak one.

"You don't have to, it was worth every coin," Geralt huffed.

"I disagree," Jaskier yawned. "Geralt, is it okay if I try to take a nap? Sorry I'm dull company."

"Stop apologizing and go to sleep."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boys went shopping and it wasn't a disaster!


	54. Chapter 54

Geralt wondered if he would ever tire of looking at Jaskier. The bard was handsome, even like this, with uneven hair starting to turn greasy and face too pale except for deep bruises under his eyes, cheekbones too pronounced. It was strange how he hadn't really noticed Jaskier's attractiveness during all the time they had known each other outside of fleeting moments where he got unexpectedly hit with the thought. Mostly it had just been objective knowledge, he wasn't blind after all. Now it was anything but that.

Geralt wished he could card his fingers through Jaskier's hair, run them along his jaw. Kiss him. An impossible wish, at least for now.

Geralt wasn't sure how else to show his adoration, being far too aware of his lacking skills with words. Trying to bare his feelings made them even harder to use. He hadn't even been able to say out loud that he loved Jaskier, while the bard had allowed himself be vulnerable and shown all of his heart to him.

Geralt hoped his actions were enough to convey his love.

Geralt didn't want to leave Jaskier alone today. Not after the day the bard had already had. He might have handled things rather well, even if there had been another panic attack, but letting him be alone on top of everything else would definitely be too much. And Jaskier also had a performance in a couple of hours. Those still demanded a lot out of the bard to get through.

Roach wouldn't be pleased about having to stay inside the whole day but it wouldn't harm her. Maybe they could spend tomorrow at the clearing if the weather stayed fair. It'd make it up to her. Geralt was thrown out of his thoughts when Jaskier gave a small whimper, curling into a ball. Fucking nightmares. Geralt really wished he had a way to chase them away for good.

"Shhh, you're safe, Jaskier. It's just a nightmare. Just a dream. You're safe," Geralt hummed softly, trying to soothe the bard without waking him.

It took a minute for Jaskier to settle down again, worst of the unhappy frown smoothing away. Geralt hoped the remedies he had bought would help with the sleeping problems. He really should have realized that option a long time ago. It felt so damn obvious in retrospect. Hopefully all the other things Brajan had suggested would work too. Anything that could ease Jaskier's life even a little bit would be worth the effort and coin. Geralt couldn't care less about having burnt through more of his budget than he should have. There was absolutely no way he could have let them walk out of the seamstress' shop without commissioning that quilt. Or not gotten few bottles of the sleeping draught.

Hmmm, he should learn how to brew those. Shouldn't be too different from his own potions once he knew the formula. Getting that would be the harder part. The pharmacist wouldn't part with hers, at least not without asking for an inordinate sum, and this sized town probably wouldn't have a bookstore carrying such texts. But it'd be worth checking out later.

"Hnnrghh. Could you knock me out?" Jaskier mumbled into the covers, clearly displeased about having woken up.

"No."

With a great gush of air Jaskier rolled onto his back and gave Geralt a small smile. "Hi."

Jaskier's smiles were rare. And beautiful.

"Hey. Feeling rested?" Geralt asked with an answering smile, not bothering to curb the desire to return the expression.

"Sadly no. But I'm not going to vibrate out of my skin anymore so I count that as a win," Jaskier said as he propped himself to sit against the headboard. "What were you up to in the meantime?"

"Nothing."

"You sure lead an interesting life, Geralt. Downright fascinating."

"Hmph."

"Guess we should get up. I don't want to go to the tavern only to see all central tables already occupied," Jaskier mused, not moving.

Getting to his feet, Geralt stared at him until the bard too rolled out of the bed with a tired sigh.

"I'm buying you dinner," Jaskier declared as he picked up his lute. "You spent far too much money earlier."

"Worth every crown," Geralt informed the bard, leading the way.

Brajan was manning the counter as they arrived. Should make Jaskier feel more at ease with ordering, Geralt noted pleased. He couldn't remember the last time he had sincerely been happy to see a familiar stranger.

"I see you've been shopping," the innkeeper smiled, nodding towards Jaskier who was wearing the beads. "It suits you."

"Thanks," Jaskier said quietly, starting to fidget with the necklace looking self-conscious. "Could we get dinner and drinks?"

"Of course. Anything else?"

Biting his lip Jaskier stared at the counter top for a moment before answering. "Could you… if Pietro is still here… and comes to order something, could you offer him a drink from me? As a thank you. For helping."

"He's still staying here. I'm sure it'll be appreciated," Brajan said, sounding pleasantly surprised at the request.

Geralt didn't share the sentiment. There was a brief flash of something sour at the thought of Jaskier buying drinks for another man. Especially for someone who had caused him to panic, be it accidentally or not. Although, Geralt had to admit the asshole had helped the bard yesterday. It did lessen the animosity he felt at him. At least the asshole didn't mean any harm.

"Thank you," Jaskier said, handing the payment and headed towards the table he deemed best to perform from.

It didn't take long for their dinners to arrive. Geralt was gratified Jaskier was eating almost normally for once instead of mostly pushing his food around, unable to stomach it. It was a constant niggling worry, watching Jaskier lose weight so rapidly. Geralt didn't want to even estimate how many pounds it was by now, the too big clothes were telling enough. It made him wonder if it was just the general stress and extremely low mood or if there was some sort of trauma around that too. It was a never-ending concern, not knowing if Jaskier was still omitting important things from his time with the bastard king.

It wouldn't surprise Geralt in the least.

Eventually Jaskier got up and took a step forward, stopping with a frustrated expression. Geralt guessed his tolerance for being surrounded by unfamiliar faces was at its limit after the shopping spree.

"It's okay," Geralt offered quietly, hoping it'd help quell Jaskier's obviously building self-loathing. It was always painful to see it rear its head, brought forth by what the bard considered failures caused by weakness.

If only Jaskier could see himself the same way he did. Brave, resilient, fighting tirelessly.

"Mmmm," Jaskier hummed noncommittally before launching into his customary introduction.

Brajan really was right, it was incredible how skilled performances Jaskier was able to deliver even while going through hell. Geralt knew that if he hadn't been constantly bombarded by Jaskier's singing and playing, he wouldn't see anything wrong. But the bard was lacking the joy, the spark that made him dance around the tables and interact with his audience. To Geralt the current performances felt empty but skilled, not a note out of tune.

Hours later Jaskier finally finished, collapsing into his chair. He was spent.

"Do you want to go back to our room? Let Brajan save the coins for you?" Geralt asked with a frown. "He should be honest with it."

"I'll be fine," Jaskier said absently, observing the patrons starting to approach.

He wasn't looking forward to this. But he really, really, needed the payment after shopping. Leaving would cut it severely even if he encouraged his audience to give money to Brajan for safe keeping. It was hard to stay even halfway cordial instead of getting up and running. It'd be quite insulting thing to do to whoever would be the unlucky one to be talking to him.

"Can I join you for a little bit?" Pietro asked nervously, shooting wary glances at the Witcher and startling Jaskier.

He hadn't noticed the man approaching, having closed his eyes in relief after the last patron left him alone, and this time Geralt hadn't gotten immediately defensive, not alerting him by tensing up. Apparently Geralt wasn't fantasizing about cutting Pietro into pieces anymore. A positive development.

"I… Um…" Jaskier wasn't sure what to do but Geralt wasn't giving any opinion on the issue, not counting his annoyed expression. "...Sure…"

This might be a very, very, bad decision. But Geralt was right beside him. The Witcher wouldn't let Pietro do anything, not even try. It should be safe. And Pietro had helped yesterday. He probably didn't mean to hurt him. Even if the man had wanted to have sex with him, he had taken the refusal well. Jaskier knew it shouldn't make him scared and suspicious of his intentions. It should be the opposite. Still, Jaskier couldn't shake the feeling off completely.

What if Pietro had taken the drink as flirting, finally returning his interest? The sudden thought made Jaskier's chest ice cold with dread.

"Sorry for intruding," Pietro said, taking a seat across from them.

It made things easier, having the table between them.

"I just want to make sure you're alright, Jaskier. Yesterday looked really bad. Thanks for the ale too," Pietro began talking, giving a small salute with his tankard. "Was Brajan able to help?"

Jaskier whispered an almost inaudible request to hold hands, knowing no one else than Geralt could hear him. The warm pressure was steadying, making it easier to try to shove his fear further away. His visible hand started to fidget with the beads on instinct.

"...Yeah. He did," Jaskier said, not able to meet Pietro's eyes. Mortification was starting to mix with the fear.

"I'm glad. Sorry for not knowing what I was doing," Pietro sounded sincerely relieved by his answer before continuing curiously. "Mind telling what happened?"

No. No. He didn't want to. Staying silent Jaskier could feel himself start to hunch into himself at the question. Would Pietro get angry at him for refusing to answer? Would he hurt him until he'd talk? Would he-

"No," Geralt's voice rang out, booking no arguments. The Witcher had gotten good at reading his silences.

"Ah, okay. I was just curious," Pietro said placatingly, clearly having grown slightly afraid of Geralt due to the Witcher's continuously hostile attitude, even if it was greatly toned down currently. "It's not my business."

"Jaskier, everything okay?" he asked concerned when Jaskier stayed slightly curled.

"Uh-huh. …Just… tired," Jaskier answered lamely, perfectly aware it sounded as fake as it was. He felt ready to cry from pure exhaustion.

"Well then, I guess that's my cue to make myself scarce and let you go rest," Pietro nodded and got up to leave.

"Oh, right. I almost forgot. Thanks for another great performance. I really enjoy them. Anyway, I hope you'll sleep well. You too Witcher," he continued, placing coins on the table before walking away.

"Can we go?" Jaskier asked, voice thick with effort to keep his emotions from overflowing.

"Of course," Geralt said as he immediately got up, scanning the room to make sure no one was planning on approaching.

Jaskier felt like he had arrived into a sanctuary as he got under the covers. There was safety in being with Geralt behind a locked door, somewhere no one could get in without notice. Where there were no strangers demanding something from him or staring at his unusual behavior.

Only Geralt was here with him.

"Jaskier, be honest, are alright?" the Witcher asked as he sat down on the mattress.

"We both know I haven't been alright for almost a month," Jaskier couldn't keep bitterness out of his voice. It was a fucking long time to continuously feel like shit. "But not really. Today was… a lot. I'm really close to losing grip on my emotions. And Pietro had a bad timing."

Talking about how he was doing was getting easier with practice. It was still really hard to do, to open up and tell Geralt what all had stopped functioning. But it did help.

And made Geralt happier.

"Good thing there's nothing more to get through. Here," Geralt said, offering him one of the small bottles of the sleeping draught.

"Geralt, those are expensive. Shouldn't they be saved for later?" Jaskier asked doubtfully.

"For the special occasion when you can't sleep well?" Geralt's tone was almost dripping sarcasm. "You're right. Trying to break a month long cycle isn't worth using one."

"...Point taken."

"Good. Drink."

Jaskier didn't have time to wonder if the potion would work. He fell asleep almost immediately after handing the empty bottle to Geralt.

Jaskier woke to the pitter patter of raindrops hitting the window. He could have sworn that he had fallen asleep only minutes ago but the light filtering through the window didn't match the possibility. Rubbing sleep crust from his eyes, Jaskier sat up with a yawn. He was feeling strangely languid, head still trying to catch up to the fact that he wasn't sleeping anymore.

"You're awake," Geralt said, turning to look at him from where he was mixing herbs.

"Yep, very keen observation," Jaskier nodded, giving another yawn as he stretched his arms. "What time is it?"

"Noon."

"Noon? I don't remember waking up before this," Jaskier blinked in surprise.

"Wait… Holy shit! Geralt! Did I sleep the whole night?" he exclaimed, jumping out of the bed to head to the Witcher's side.

"You did," Geralt smiled at him.

"Finally! No wonder I don't feel like death that's been six feet under for years, only death. I'm taking everything I said about the sleeping potions back. I had absolutely no dreams at all," Jaskier said happily, leaning his elbows on the table to be at eye level with Geralt. "This is fantastic."

Giving a bright laugh he continued. "If I could, I would kiss you right now, Geralt. But since it's not an option, can I have a hug instead?"

"Yes," Geralt's smile turned softer as he got up to fulfill the request.

It felt amazing to have Geralt's arms around him. It was like a promise of safety and assurance of Geralt's feelings for him. Jaskier loved it. Even if such a close contact still caused stabs of anxiety that forced him to cut the hug short before it could turn into panic.

"Thank you, love," Jaskier said, well aware he was looking absolutely besotted. Didn't matter anymore. Geralt knew his heart was with him.

Geralt made a strange gurgle at the endearment, causing Jaskier to give another bright if brief laugh. "Never been called love, darling? Dearest? Sweetheart? Beloved? Light of my life? My safe haven in a storm?"

Geralt was standing stock still and eyes as wide as they could get. Jaskier wondered gleefully if he had overloaded the Witcher.

"Mind stepping out for a bit so I can change?" Jaskier decided to take pity on Geralt and not use another pet name.

With a shake of his head Geralt unglued himself and headed to the door, still looking slightly stunned. Just before crossing the threshold, Geralt glanced back. "Of course I'll do it, Dandelion."

This time it was Jaskier who ended up standing stock still as Geralt stepped out. Somehow the Witcher managed to make the click of the closing door sound self-satisfied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier FINALLY got a whole night of uninterrupted sleep...! ;w;
> 
> On a completely unrelated note, I bought my cat a cute turquoise harness yesterday and now we're training. :3 It'd be nice to be able to go outside with her but most of all, it'll give another layer of security when traveling. 
> 
> See ya on Monday! ❤️


	55. Chapter 55

Wringing a washcloth in his hands Jaskier stared at the gently steaming wash basin in front of him. Geralt had left for his ride, braving the rain still falling just as heavy as at noon, giving him a perfect opportunity to get clean. Jaskier felt foolish how anxious he was getting over the fact that he needed to take his clothes off without Geralt standing, guarding him, on the other side of the door.

The door that was tightly closed and securely locked. No one was going to suddenly burst in. Curtains were blocking the window. No one could see inside.

Jaskier still wasn't completely convinced it was safe.

But he had already ordered the warm water and it had been brought. His hair was greasy again and he wasn't keen on the idea of starting to smell. He would just have to get over the nervousness and do it.

Jaskier started to unlace his doublet. He couldn't help but glance at the door as he let it drop to the floor.

Nothing happened.

Jaskier knew he shouldn't feel this surprised.

He shed his chemise before he could overthink and dipped the washcloth in the water. Scrubbing his arms, Jaskier realized that he hadn't really touched his skin except for hands, face, scalp, and when treating wounds, since before the feast. There was always something in between, be it his clothes or a washcloth. It was a strange thing to think about, having subconsciously avoided doing so as if he feared catching some deadly disease.

With a frown Jaskier placed the washcloth on the table next to the basin, and ran fingers along his left forearm. It was almost an unfamiliar sensation by now, having skin on skin, even his own. With a sigh he picked the cloth again and continued to scrub himself, occasionally letting his fingers trail the same spots causing pangs of anxiety and goosebumps.

It didn't take long for his trousers' waistband to get in the way, making Jaskier freeze. Afraid to take them off, he stared at the door once again. His knuckles were turning white with the force of his grip on the washcloth. He kept waiting for someone to step into the room.

It didn't happen.

Dropping the cloth into the water, Jaskier retrieved his chemise and pulled it on before starting to remove his pants. Not being completely naked helped, even if his breaths were too shallow and a faint tremor was starting to build in his hands. Washing himself as quick as he possibly could, Jaskier started to repeat the same thing he had done with his upper body. Having run hands up and down on his calves he tried to bring them higher, only to halt mid-thigh and switch to his lower back.

Jaskier couldn't touch his scars.

He couldn't make his fingers travel much below his navel, couldn't trail his inner thighs, couldn't touch his groin, could barely brush against his ass.

Not without the matter of fact goal of getting clean and a washcloth to prevent skin contact.

It was bringing tears to Jaskier's eyes. It wasn't as if he was planning to start pleasuring himself. He just wanted to own his body, wanted to be able to do whatever he wanted with it, wanted to be able to touch himself without getting more and more anxious. Wanted to feel safe in it, not broken and tainted. Not think about how it would have been Marden's hands touching him within an hour if things hadn't gone as they had.

Apparently it was too much to ask for.

Re-dressing hastily Jaskier retreated to sit on the floor, leaning against the bed, and started to fidget with the empty ring box Geralt had gifted him. The carvings were of differing depths, creating interesting texture. Opening and snapping it shut made a clean sound as wood met wood. It wasn't enough to prevent tears starting to run down his cheeks but it was helping Jaskier to hold on to the reality instead of getting completely swept into his building panic and Marden's echoing touches. Focusing on the physical aspects of the box was giving him a thin and fragile thread to hang on to.

Jaskier could feel it already stretching, starting to fray.

It was getting hard to breathe.

Someone hurried down the hallway with heavy footsteps, making Jaskier curl into himself. Whoever it had been would head back any second, stop at the door, get in. He didn't want it to happen. Not like that mattered anymore.

He lost the fight against sobs.

No, no, he needed to focus, try to remember what Brajan had told him. His head was filled with static, making it hard to think about anything else than his terror and need to draw air in. Jaskier knew there had been something. It was hard to recall even a single thing while feeling like he was suffocating. He needed to focus.

On his surroundings.

That was it. That advice he had tried to remember. It had helped last time. When Geralt had coaxed him into listing objects. Maybe it'd work again, take his mind off the fear and the lack of air. Maybe. Lifting his head off his knees, Jaskier opened his stinging tear filled eyes to survey the room.

"...A… …bed… …A chair… " Jaskier forced out between gasping breaths. "...Curtains… Saddlebacks… A table…"

Having to focus on the words, on getting them out, on remembering what everything was called, was starting to help. He could feel the carvings of the box again, fingers getting less and less numb. Breaths coming a little easier. The irrational fear of a stranger entering the room receding. His chest didn't hurt as much, not being forced to heave uselessly.

Marden's hands on him lingered.

Jaskier retreated to sit farther from the door, grabbing a blanket off the bed to wrap around his shoulders.

He hated this. Hated having panic attacks daily, hated being a fucking wreck in general. Hated how hard everything was, how hard just existing was. At least he had finally gotten a whole night of sleep. Jaskier knew he'd be feeling far worse without it. This was bad enough. Not feeling up to anything, Jaskier settled down to lean against the bed, fiddling with the box and beads. Trying his best to ignore the hands still caressing him.

Geralt would return soon enough.

Roach hadn't been thrilled to be taken out for a ride in this weather but Geralt hadn't wanted the mare to stand in the stall for two consecutive days. At least she had seemed mollified after a throughout rubdown and a pail of oats once they had returned. Geralt too was looking forward to getting dry as he stepped into their room, only to spot Jaskier huddling by the far wall leaning against the bed and fidgeting with the ring box.

"Jaskier, what happened? Are you okay?" Geralt asked, hurrying to kneel by the bard's side. He hated how routine the questions had become.

"Had a panic attack," Jaskier sighed, clearly frustrated.

That wasn't good news but at least Jaskier was able to talk normally. Had to have been able to calm himself down better than before.

"How bad?" Geralt wanted the details, not liking things happening to Jaskier while he was gone. It made him feel useless, not being able to help the bard.

"Not that bad. Brajan's advice, trying to list things around me, worked," Jaskier turned to look at him. "Made it shorter. Should probably start doing it straight away when I first realize what's happening."

"That's great," Geralt nodded. "What do you need?"

"Kiss me."

What. The. Fuck?

"What the fuck, Jaskier?" Geralt echoed his thought.

"Kiss me. Fuck me. I don't want to feel anything but you," Jaskier said urgently, eyes too bright and bringing his face only inches away from Geralt's.

"No," there was absolutely no way Geralt would do that.

"Oh, okay. But why?" Jaskier seemed genuinely surprised and taken aback by the refusal.

Did the bard really think he would ignore his desperation? Geralt didn't know what was triggering the behavior but he was completely sure that wasn't what Jaskier actually wanted. Or was ready for.

"You don't want it," Geralt stated, backing slightly to leave more space between them.

"Geralt. I asked for it," Jaskier frowned, looking confused. "I think that illustrates quite obviously my willingness."

"No. You're trying to use it as a distraction from something," Geralt shook his head. "I won't take advantage of it, Jaskier."

"Don't you want me?" the bard's frown deepened, lips thinning with worry.

"I do. But not like this, not when you're forcing yourself. Talk to me, Jaskier. What's actually going on?" Geralt needed to get Jaskier to open up. He couldn't help otherwise.

Jaskier kept staring at him silently for a minute before letting out a deep exhale and slumped from his rigid pose.

"I… I want to feel something that's real. To erase Marden's touches," Jaskier said hesitantly while wrapping the blanket more securely around himself. "To erase the feeling left behind from his gaze. The way he looked at me was almost as bad as the actual touches. He wasn't subtle with his intentions."

Ah. Jaskier was probably suffering from those echoes he had told about.

"I can't do that to you. I will not have sex with you, will not kiss you, when you're asking for it in anguish," Geralt explained. It was strange having to spell such basic things out for the bard. He'd do it day and night if that meant Jaskier would internalize it.

"Oh. I- I guess you're right. Bad idea," the bard muttered.

"Bad idea," Geralt confirmed before continuing. "I can hold your hand or give a hug if you truly want contact."

Those were innocuous enough and Jaskier had proved time and time again that he enjoyed them. Should be safe options.

Jaskier kept watching him for a while, worrying his bottom lip with teeth before offering his hand. "Can I hold yours?"

"Yes."

It really was good that Geralt was able to recognize when he was acting irrationally, Jaskier mused as he traced patterns onto Geralt's palm. And the Witcher didn't tolerate it, letting him know when his actions were influenced by trauma. It helped. Having someone bringing him back to reality, to make him see he wasn't thinking straight. It was hard to recognize it by himself.

It would probably have led to an unfixable disaster if Geralt hadn't refused.

"Thank you," Jaskier hummed, focusing on the feeling of Geralt's calluses under his fingers.

"You're welcome," Geralt said, giving a small squeeze.

"Oh shit!" Jaskier exclaimed, realizing for the first time Geralt was soaking wet. "Geralt, change. You look like someone pushed you into a lake."

"I don't care," Geralt shrugged.

"Well, I do," Jaskier let go of Geralt's hand and tried to shoo him away. "You'll catch a cold."

"No I won't," the Witcher grumbled but did head to the saddlebags to get dry clothing.

"Can I take care of your hair?" Jaskier asked, looking into the opposite direction to let Geralt have some privacy while changing.

"Hmmm."

"Bring me your comb."

Geralt's hair was still damp as the Witcher sat down in front of Jaskier, letting him start to untangle the locks.

"How long did it take to grow your hair this long?" Jaskier asked, running the comb through now mostly smooth hair.

"Don't remember," Geralt said, voice as relaxed as his shoulders. "It was a long time ago."

"What do you think, would it suit me?" Jaskier inquired and placed the comb on the floor, switching to carding his fingers through Geralt's hair before separating it into sections.

"Long hair? Sounds weird," Geralt huffed amused by the idea.

"Rude. I look good in everything."

"The humble bard is the biggest lie you've written into your songs."

"How dare you mock my songs? It's thanks to me your prices and contract frequency have gone up," Jaskier said in a haughty tone.

"Hmph."

"I'm done," Jaskier declared, tucking last of the wayward hairs in place. "Too bad you can't see it. It's a masterpiece."

Geralt gave another hum as he gently felt back of his head in an attempt to figure out what had happened to his hair.

"Don't mess it up," Jaskier warned.

He wouldn't actually mind having to repeat the braiding but the hairdo was looking good on Geralt and Jaskier didn't want his efforts go to waste. It had taken some work to get the elaborate waterfall braid behave as intended.

With a tired sigh Jaskier settled back against the bed. "Thank you, Geralt, for being so patient with me. I know I don't make it easy. If I could, I'd go back to how I used to be in a heartbeat. This has to be beyond frustrating to you, not knowing when I'll start acting irrationally. That I'm constantly on the verge of a breakdown."

"I won't lie. It's hard," Geralt conceded, turning around to face him. "I hate seeing you hurting."

"I'm sorry," Jaskier said, lowering his gaze away from Geralt's eyes.

"Not your fault. At all. Any of this."

It was difficult to accept. Jaskier felt like he should have seen it all coming. He had after all pinned down Marden's personality while performing at the feast. He should also have caught on to the twisted side of the king, the way his preferences would manifest, before it had been too late.

But he hadn't and now he kept assuming everyone had such an ugly side.

Jaskier knew he wouldn't be able to bear a repeat.

It had been absolutely devastating the first time.

It was exhausting to stay on guard. Constantly suspicious and fearful of others even when he most of the time rationally knew it was unnecessary. That actually very few people meant him harm. And those who did were mostly just angry spouses, especially husbands, indignant that they couldn't fulfill their partner's needs, making their lovers seek satisfaction from other places. How could he have refused to give it to them when they had so sweetly asked and agreed?

At least he wouldn't be making new enemies anymore on that front.

Jaskier guessed it was a positive sign that he was starting to believe Brajan was safe to be around. That the innkeeper really didn't have any nefarious intents, just wanted to help, was a genuinely kind man. Pietro too was starting to inch to that direction, Jaskier thought. Even if he had again worked himself up over nothing. It had just been a bad timing yesterday, with him having already been at his limit after the shopping and performing. But the man didn't seem interested in acting on any lingering attraction he might still harbor, had only wanted to make sure he was okay. Pietro shouldn't be a threat.

"Geralt, are you sure Brajan is safe to be around? Or Pietro? I don't want to be wrong again," Jaskier needed a confirmation. To hear Geralt's opinion once more.

"Yes. Brajan is completely safe, doesn't mean any harm or want to hurt you," Geralt stated before continuing with a disgruntled huff. "Pietro too is fine."

"Good. I do want to regain my trust in people. I'm just terrified of making another miscalculation," Jaskier said relieved."Really, really afraid. I don't think I could get through it if something similar happened again. I'm not that strong."

That admission hurt. It seemed like almost everything he let Geralt know hurt to say. It was like poking an open wound.

"Jaskier, you had no way of knowing what kind of a fucking sick bastard Marden was. Nothing that happened was because of you. Nothing," Geralt said resolute. "And you're much stronger than you think."

"I knew he enjoyed revelry and privileges of his high status. It was obvious with the way he acted at the feast. I should have realized it'd include seeing people as commodities. Especially someone he paid," Jaskier countered. "I basically read people for living, Geralt. Well, used to. Now I can't see anything but threats. Anyway, I need to read my audiences to figure out the best ways to please them with my music if I want to get paid well. And I failed to read Marden."

"You didn't fail. No one expects anyone to act like Marden did," there was fire in Geralt's eyes. "He purposefully hid it and manipulated you, Jaskier. You didn't bring this upon yourself."

Jaskier hadn't realized how desperately he had wanted to hear those words before Geralt had said them.

"...Geralt… You really think that?"

"I know it."

"Can I please hug you?" Jaskier asked voice thick.

"Yes," Geralt replied softly, opening his arms invitingly.

"Thank you," Jaskier whispered, burying his face into the crook of Geralt's neck. The Witcher's hands were warm against his back. "Thank you. Thank you."

"You're welcome," Geralt said bemused.

Geralt didn't seem to understand just how important his words had been.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier, you make me sad :(


	56. Chapter 56

Geralt could smell salt and feel his shirt get damp where Jaskier was hiding his face. But it didn't seem to be grief this time. It was something lighter, maybe relief. Geralt hoped his words had made a difference, helped the bard to accept he had nothing to blame himself for. Geralt still couldn't understand why Jaskier kept thinking he had done something wrong to warrant the things done to him.

The only one responsible for the atrocities was the bastard king.

Restraining himself from tightening his hold on Jaskier, Geralt tried to remind himself that it wasn't because of his failure to protect the bard, not getting him out sooner, either. But the knowledge of having tried and not succeeded was a heavy thing in his chest. He wouldn't let it happen again.

"Jaskier, it'll get better," Geralt murmured. It felt like empty platitudes even though he truly meant the words. "It will."

"Mmmm," Jaskier didn't seem ready to speak or let go. The bard kept hugging him tightly as if scared to be swept away otherwise. Safe haven in a storm, Jaskier had called him. Maybe it hadn't been just a teasing throw-away line.

Jaskier hadn't hugged him for this long since the night the bard had tried to cut his own hair. Geralt was glad he wasn't acting out of such desperation this time. It was a difficult fight to keep his touch butterfly light, easy to get away from with the slightest movement. Geralt wanted to press Jaskier against his chest, wrap his arms securely around the bard's back leaving no space between them.

Jaskier stayed still for a little while longer before leaning back, breaking Geralt's light hold.

"Thank you, Geralt. Truly. That meant a lot to me. Hearing you think I didn't cause this because I failed," the bard said voice still thick but expression more relaxed. "You've been repeating that it's not my fault but… I guess I wasn't ready to hear it before, wasn't able to talk about it."

"I'll probably keep forgetting it wasn't because of what I did or didn't do, not really, but I think I can accept it at the moment," Jaskier continued, worrying his beads. "It's just hard. I keep thinking about what I could have done differently. Like not having kicked Marden."

"You kicked him?" Geralt asked surprised.

The bastard deserved it. Jaskier had strong legs from all the walking as Geralt had come to realize after having been on the receiving end of those kicks before learning not to touch without permission.

"Yeah, during the walk… I tried to make him let go of my arm. It caused him to turn violent," there was a tremor in Jaskier's voice. "I… I can't get rid of the thought that if I hadn't done it, none of this would have followed. Marden even said things could have gone differently if I hadn't resisted him."

Geralt had to admit he could now see Jaskier's logic, faulty as it was, behind all the self-blame and fear of standing up for himself. There was absolutely nothing Jaskier had done to deserve any of this, nothing he had done wrong. But it did finally made sense.

"Jaskier, it wasn't because you defended yourself. You did the right thing by trying to fight back," Geralt tried to assure the bard. "Keep doing it."

"...I'll try," Jaskier said faintly, still clearly scared of the idea.

"Good," promising to try was enough for Geralt.

Jaskier rubbed at his tear tracks before looking at him again with tightness around his eyes. "Want to go downstairs? I'm sure Brajan has decks for gwent."

"Sure," Geralt agreed after the briefest pause. He hadn't expected the request.

This was the first time Jaskier had suggested going among people without an actual goal to achieve and Geralt couldn't help but feel proud of the bard. Jaskier was obviously apprehensive of his own suggestion but not backing out. Seeing him take new steps forward was always just as amazing.

It made Geralt's heart fill with dizzying mix of emotions.

Jaskier wasn't sure what had possessed him to think doing something in a public space when it wasn't necessary was a good idea. But staying cooped in their room due his fear was turning maddening as his physical health kept slowly improving. There was only so much to do even when Geralt was keeping him company. It was a relief that Brajan was manning the counter as he had hoped.

"Jaskier, Geralt, nice to see you up and about. What can I do for you?" the innkeeper asked, looking sincerely pleased.

"I was wondering if you have a gwent deck?" Jaskier couldn't help but feel surprised how easy it was to get the words out. He hoped it didn't show on his face.

"What kind of a establishment would this be if I didn't have a couple of those for customers to use?" Brajan said with a smile as he bent to retrieve one. "Anything else?"

"Could I get that tea? And ale for Geralt," Jaskier replied with a glance at Geralt to confirm having guessed right.

"Of course. I'll bring the tea once it has steeped," the innkeeper nodded, handing a tankard to Geralt.

Jaskier let out a deep sigh as he started to shuffle the deck once they had seated. It was nice to be able to pick the most remote table, not having to make himself the center of attention. Having his back to the wall made him feel safer. No one could get behind him.

"Sorry for claiming this seat. I know you don't like facing away from the other tables," Jaskier said while dealing the cards. It was frustrating how he couldn't let Geralt have even such a small comfort.

"Don't apologize," Geralt huffed. "It's not needed."

Jaskier wasn't sure of that but let it go as he spotted Brajan walking towards them. Having a tiff in front of the man didn't seem right.

"Here you go," the innkeeper said with a smile, placing Jaskier's tea in front of him and a platter of still warm bread slices and butter in the middle of the table. "Bread is on the house."

Jaskier wasn't sure why the gesture almost made tears well up in his eyes.

"Thank you, Brajan," he said, blinking rapidly to keep them away.

"Let me know if there's anything else," the innkeeper told them before heading back to the counter.

Jaskier was glad the tavern was currently empty enough for him to mostly focus on the game. Although, his attention did keep wandering around. It was annoying how easily he fixated on the movements people made, needing Geralt's help to pay attention to what he was supposed to be doing. They didn't have time to finish their third round before he was getting too jittery to continue, forcing them to abandon the game and retreat.

But it could have gone worse. A lot worse.

Letting his legs dangle off the bed, Jaskier fidgeted with his beads, eyes closed and paying attention to each breath he took. It wasn't too hard to keep them steady. It was a nice change, leaving a situation before it got too much to handle.

"Sorry for interrupting the game and dragging you back here," Jaskier said without opening his eyes. "I'm sorry I couldn't handle it."

"You're starting to apologize again for things you don't have to, Jaskier," Geralt pointed out, unable to keep a frustrated edge from his tone.

Jaskier wasn't sure why he was suddenly feeling like such an inconvenience, causing a strong urge to keep saying it. "Sorry, hadn't noticed."

"Jaskier."

"Sorry. Oh shit, sorry about that."

Geralt gave an exasperated huff. "You're starting to get stuck in a loop. Quit it."

"Sorry," Jaskier said before managing to swallow it. Geralt was right, this was turning annoying. He wanted to apologize for it.

"What's bothering you?" Geralt asked, changing the tactic. "Tell me."

"Don't know. I'm just feeling like a nuisance," Jaskier muttered. "I'm sorry I don't have a better answer."

"Because of the game?"

"I guess…?"

Geralt gave an annoyed incomprehensible grumble before continuing. "Jaskier, what you did was great, wanting to spend some time among people. It was a good call to let me know when you needed to leave. You're far more important than a card game."

"I just feel like I wasted your time. I mean, it was me who asked to play," Jaskier mumbled. "I'm sorry I interrupted it. Ah, bloody hell, I really can't stop saying sorry. Maybe I should just stop talking."

"Good idea," Geralt nodded. "You do realize you're getting worked up over nothing?"

"Yeah. Doesn't help," Jaskier mumbled before falling silent. He really had no idea why this was suddenly such a big deal. It was so frivolous. He just hated disturbing Geralt with his problems. And those were never-ending.

He didn't bother mentioning the headache he had had since the panic attack.

They stayed like that until dinner time. Jaskier had to admit staying silent, unable to give in to the urge to apologize for everything had helped. It had been an opportunity to reset himself, get away from the feeling of being only an inconvenience. Geralt's frustration with him seemed to have disappeared too.

Having slept the whole night really had helped. Even with the rough patches he had more energy to deal with everything. It gave Jaskier hope that things really could improve, that rest of his life wouldn't have to be absolutely miserable. It was difficult to conceptualize anything further than the immediate future when even thinking about tomorrow was hazy. It was hard enough to stay in the present. He would just trust Geralt to take care of the planning for now.

Jaskier was pleasantly surprised when getting up to perform didn't seem as daunting task as before. It didn't take him far.

Seven steps.

That's how far.

Jaskier sighed in disappointment when his invisible tether to Geralt halted him after seven meager steps. But it was better than before. He should stay positive. He couldn't.

Singing at least was easier, there was no tremor in his voice when Jaskier introduced himself, no hesitation when launching into the first song. Jaskier still couldn't find the joy of performing, showing his skills, sharing his creations, but the anxiety coursing through his veins wasn't threatening to turn into panic. Not yet. Knowing that he wasn't able to do his best even with that was eating at him. No matter what Geralt and Brajan had said about his playing, he knew he was better than this. Should be. Had been. Jaskier wanted to prove it to everyone.

To himself.

Jaskier was grateful when he could return back to their room, having depressingly familiar panic start creeping upon him the longer he had had to interact with people. He really wished to know how to get rid of it.

"How long will this continue?" Jaskier felt terribly needy, asking when he was well aware Geralt didn't have the answer. But he just wanted reassurance, any kind, no matter how vague or empty, that he wouldn't be this way forever.

"I don't know, Jaskier. But we'll work on it as long as it takes," Geralt sounded so sure of himself.

"Thanks," it did make Jaskier feel a little bit better, knowing Geralt would stay with him to help.

"Drink this and lay down, Jaskier. You need sleep," Geralt said, handing another sleeping draught to him.

Jaskier still felt like he shouldn't use them at once but the allure of a whole night of rest was too tempting. So without a protest he downed the potion, looking forward to the blissfully dreamless night.

Sleep really was such a magical thing, Jaskier mused as they were having breakfast the next morning. He even felt hungry. He couldn't remember the last time that had happened. No headache either.

"Want to go to the clearing?" Geralt asked, breaking the silence. "It shouldn't rain today."

"Yes!" Jaskier really did feel like a puppy about to be let out. "Absolutely. Let's go."

Geralt only snorted as Jaskier almost ran to their room to grab his lute, following at a more sedate pace.

Well, the Witcher wasn't the one staying constantly inside, forced to do so because his brain couldn't handle much more most of the time. Jaskier felt completely justified in his eagerness. He couldn't care less if he would end up sitting on wet grass. He needed to get out. Tapping his foot impatiently, Jaskier waited Geralt to get into his armor and grab things to bring along.

"Morning lovely girl," Jaskier greeted Roach, feeding her a carrot as Geralt saddled her. "Looking forward to a whole day outside?"

He didn't get an answer. Roach was too invested in her treat. But her enthusiasm was clear a few minutes later as they existed the stable, making her prance before Geralt gave her a disapproving look. It was far easier to lead the mare after that. She did get excited again when they got to the clearing and she was allowed more freedom. Roach was such an amazing horse. Jaskier absolutely loved her.

Turning around to praise the mare to Geralt, Jaskier was surprised seeing the Witcher spreading out the tarp to create a dry place to sit. Geralt had started to act far more considerate compared to before. The Witcher would have definitely just let him get wet from the damp grass and told him to stand if that didn't please him.

"Thanks, Geralt," Jaskier said, walking over to sit on it and took his lute out. "You're going to do your sword practice, right?"

"Yes."

Verbose as ever, Jaskier thought fondly. It was interesting to watch Geralt work through his routine and try to match his movements with playing. The forms and rhythms were so familiar by now that it wasn't too hard to do. Jaskier enjoyed the way it made Geralt look like he was dancing. The Witcher didn't seem to have any opinion on his chosen practice method, having only given a baffled look when he had realized moving with the music.

"Having fun?" Geralt asked as he sheathed his sword, finished with the routines.

"Yes, actually," Jaskier said, surprised by it. It was such a novelty. "I am."

"Can I sit?" Geralt checked with a barely there smile.

Jaskier patted the tarp beside himself in invitation. "Mind if I lean on you?"

Seeing Geralt nod his permission, Jaskier pressed against his side and let his head rest on the Witcher's shoulder. It was peaceful to just exists like this. It felt safe. There was nothing to be afraid of at this moment. Just him, Geralt, and Roach, no outsiders or strangers. Nothing that could hurt them.

"I love you," Jaskier whispered, not bothering to open his eyes or move. He was too content like this. It'd be a shame to break the moment.

"Hmmm," Geralt hummed, tensing up at the soft words.

Jaskier knew it was just Geralt not knowing how to respond. The Witcher wasn't used to this. It'd take time for him to get comfortable hearing the words. Jaskier wasn't sure if he himself would ever hear them returned. He knew Geralt felt the same. It'd be enough.

But maybe one day Geralt could say it outloud.

Maybe.

Hopefully.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They soft.
> 
> Btw, I have no idea how one plays gwent. I only know it's a card game that exists in the Witcher universe.


	57. Chapter 57

"...Geralt. Could you- could you touch me?" Jaskier asked hesitantly, trying to keep his voice even.

"What?" Geralt's eyes narrowed and voice turned flat.

Right. The Witcher was probably thinking about yesterday.

"Not sexually. I just don't want to keep being terrified of being touched, especially by you, Geralt," Jaskier continued quickly. "I was thinking that maybe you could, if you want to, try running your hands along my arms? You don't have to, honestly. I know this is a really weird request."

"Jaskier, are you feeling those phantom touches you've told me about?" Geralt asked with a frown, eyes searching for clues on Jaskier's face.

"No. This isn't a distraction or anything else like that. I'm fine," Jaskier said as calmly as he could. "I honestly just want to start working on this. But like I said, please don't do it if you don't want to, Geralt."

"Are you sure of this?" the Witcher still hadn't stopped staring at him intently. "Sure you want to be touched?"

"Yes."

"I'll do it," Geralt said, expression relaxing slightly.

Jaskier gave a relieved sigh, turning to fully face the Witcher. He really had no idea how else he could try doing this. "Thank you, Geralt."

"I'll start by holding your hand. Is that alright?" Geralt asked, hand hovering over Jaskier's.

"Sure," Jaskier nodded, taking Geralt's into his.

They stayed like that for a moment before Geralt continued. "Can I touch your wrist?"

Oh. Apparently Geralt was going to ask permission for every little step. Jaskier had thought he would just briskly rub his arm a few times and be done with it. This was better.

"Yes."

It didn't feel any different. Except that there was now his sleeves separating Geralt's hand from his skin.

"You okay if I start trailing your forearm? I won't go past your elbow."

"Yeah."

Jaskier's heart was picking up speed as he stared at Geralt's fingers starting to slowly move up along his arm. He needed to track every miniscule part of the movement. He had to know exactly where Geralt's hand was. Had to.

"Still okay?"

"...Yeah."

Jaskier pressed his lips tightly against each other to keep them from trembling. His heart was racing and free hand kept fidgeting with his beads. Geralt had almost reached his elbow.

"Can I continue higher?"

"...Yeah..."

Jaskier wasn't sure if he had started shaking but it wouldn't surprise him. The slight pressure was uncomfortable, almost frightening. Jaskier's eyes were starting to sting.

Geralt's hand crossed his elbow.

Jaskier kicked out with a scream. "No!"

It was an awkward angle, Jaskier wasn't sure if he had connected at all. And even if he had, there would be almost no strength behind it. He needed to get away now that he wasn't being held anymore. He scrambled backwards, tears blurring his vision, until he was suddenly on damp ground. Whoever had been touching his arm wasn't coming closer, wasn't grabbing him. It was a relief. Jaskier couldn't breathe, couldn't move, he was the perfect victim. He wouldn't be able to fight back any more than he already had.

Whatever would happen, would happen.

He had no say in it.

Geralt felt like hitting himself on the head. He should have fucking known better than try to do it all in one go. Should have read the signs of Jaskier's mounting fear better and stopped earlier. He was well aware Jaskier didn't have a good grip on his own limits. And now Jaskier was having the worst panic attack Geralt had seen in a while. The bard didn't seem aware of anything else than his own terror.

Geralt didn't dare to get closer. Not yet.

"Jaskier, Jaskier, you're safe. You won't be hurt, you're safe. Jaskier, slow your breathing," Geralt started to talk as soothingly as he could. "Can you listen to me, Jaskier? You're having a panic attack. You need to control your breaths. You're safe, absolutely safe."

It didn't seem to make much of a difference.

"Open your eyes, Jaskier. Tell me what you see. Can you do that? It's safe. You're safe. Just describe what's around you," maybe the bard could latch on that better. "Or count the beads around your neck."

It was a good sign when one of Jaskier's shaking hands took hold of his necklace again even if it was the only change.

"Feel the beads? You didn't have them at the feast. You're out of there and safe. You're safe now. Take deep breaths and look around, see you're not there, Jaskier. You're safe."

Jaskier took a slightly deeper shuddery breath and opened his eyes. Geralt honestly wasn't sure if the bard would be able to see anything through his flowing tears.

"That's it. Describe what you see, Jaskier. It's safe, you're safe. Just tell me what's around you."

"..."

"You can do it, Jaskier. Just focus."

"...Trees…" Jaskier wheezed in between gasping breaths. "...Grass…"

"Good, good. What else?"

"...Flowers… …Rocks… Roach."

Geralt was glad how sure of himself Jaskier had sounded as he spotted the mare. He had to be coming back to himself. Brajan's advice truly was helping Jaskier to get grounded.

"It's safe, Jaskier. You're safe. Do you understand?"

"Hi, Geralt…" Jaskier said, voice thick and tremulous.

"Hi, Jaskier. Do you know where you are?" Geralt asked relieved.

"Yeah. The clearing. With you," the bard's sentences were short and clipped, still interrupted with slowly calming sobs. "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize. What do you need?"

"I don't know. I just don't. I'm so sorry," Jaskier mumbled, rubbing at his tears.

"It's fine, no need to apologize. Do you want to come sit on the tarp again? I can move away if that's better," Geralt suggested. It could be a good start.

"You don't have to do that. But please don't touch," Jaskier said, getting up from the wet grass and walked over.

This was an improvement, Jaskier being fine with proximity after such a violent reaction to physical contact. Geralt did his best to focus on that, not the guilt of causing the attack. He had done that so fucking many times now. It was a miracle Jaskier was still trusting and putting up with him, not even blaming him. The bard would be completely justified in doing so.

"I'll be right back," Geralt said as he went to retrieve few things and led Roach to Jaskier. She had proved to be a calming presence for the bard.

After dropping a piece of a carrot in Jaskier's hands to give Roach, Geralt gently and carefully placed a blanket around the bard's shoulders. It would be better once the weighted one was done.

"Drink," Geralt advised, handing a waterskin to Jaskier once he was done petting Roach. "Do you have a headache?"

"Yes…" the bard muttered, taking a gulp of the water.

Geralt couldn't help but sigh in disappointment. "You haven't been mentioning them to me, have you?"

"...No… They just don't matter," at least Jaskier did look contrite.

"Jaskier, your health is important. I can't help if I don't know what's wrong," Geralt really wanted to be able to make Jaskier believe it. "I'll give you willow for the pain."

"Don't bother. It'll wear off before the headache."

"Fuck, Jaskier. Getting something is even more important then. You're not going to suffer the whole day," Geralt snapped, making Jaskier avert his gaze.

Without any further protests the bard started to chew on the bark as it was given to him. Geralt was determined to brew actual potions at the first chance. He had put it off for far too long.

"Can we try again?" Jaskier asked a few minutes later.

"Yes, but not now. That was a bad attack. You need more time to recover," Geralt informed the bard. There was absolutely no way he would do it again so soon. Jaskier had barely stopped shaking.

"But-"

"No."

"It might be like falling off a horse. Got to get in the saddle again right away. It could work this time," Jaskier wheedled.

"No. I won't do it."

"Oh. I'm sorry I kept pressuring you. I really, really, shouldn't have done it," there was suddenly a tone in Jaskier's voice that Geralt didn't like at all.

"You weren't, so stop thinking you did," Geralt wasn't going to let Jaskier believe for a second he had done that.

"I should have stopped asking the moment you said no! I'm so sorry, Geralt," Jaskier said, getting more distraught by the second. "Please forgive me."

"Jaskier, stop. You didn't do anything wrong. Calm down before you drive yourself into panicking," Geralt stated, trying his best to keep frustration out of his voice. "It's fine to ask for something more than once."

Jaskier shook his head in denial. "It's not. I knew you didn't want to but I still kept pressing. I shouldn't do that."

"Jaskier, it was just a normal conversation. You weren't trying to coerce me to do anything, wasn't going to use force to get what you wanted," Geralt explained, gathering his patience around himself like a mantle. Letting his temper flare up would be a mistake, no matter how irritating this was turning. It wasn't Jaskier's fault getting fixated, not really.

"I don't- I don't want to force you to do anything. Ever. It's…" Jaskier trailed off, tangling and untangling his necklace nervously.

"Jaskier, are you afraid of taking advantage of me?" Geralt asked with a deepening frown, struck with the thought.

"..."

"Jaskier?"

"...I do it constantly…" Jaskier whispered so quietly Geralt had trouble hearing him. "I feel sick having added trying to pressure you into physical contact to the list."

"What the hell are you talking about? Because I sure as fuck haven't noticed it," Geralt retorted.

Jaskier stayed silent, drawing the blanket tighter around himself.

"Talk. Now."

"...I make you take care of practically every single thing, including me. I don't contribute anything anymore, just take and take and take without giving back. Except for hardships and pain," Jaskier explained in a brittle voice.

There was no denying those having entered into their relationship, they just were completely different from what Jaskier clearly thought. Geralt gave a heavy sigh as he tried to think his words through before starting. He didn't want to fuck this up.

"Jaskier, I'm helping you out of my free will. You haven't even asked me to do it at any point. And if you did, I would agree in a heartbeat. I want to do it. I want to help because I …care about… you," Geralt wished he was able to say it was out of love. The word just didn't manage to pass his lips. "You haven't taken advantage of me at all. If anything, you keep refusing help. Which you need to stop doing."

Jaskier mumbled something Geralt couldn't make out.

"Didn't catch that," he said, staring at the bard and willing him to repeat it.

"How am I not taking advantage of your kindness when I'm not worth your time and efforts, Gera-"

"How many fucking times do I have to tell you that you're worth everything?" Geralt shouted, cutting Jaskier off. "You keep saying you're worthless. Tell me, just what makes you like that? Convince me. Because I don't fucking see it."

Jaskier was staring at him pale and wide eyed, inching slowly away after the initial flinch at the shout. Right, yelling. Not good. That was exactly what Geralt had meant to avoid.

"Jaskier, stay," it ended up sounding like he was commanding a dog but Jaskier did stop moving. "Let's hear it."

Hopefully this would be the right thing to do. Make Jaskier voice the poisonous thoughts circling in his head, like draining pus from a putrid wound. Geralt wished this was something as straightforward as an infected cut. Then he would know what to do.

Jaskier looked cornered as he launched into a tirade. "Where should I start? Being too pathetic to even feed myself reliably? Staying terrified of everything? How it makes me completely useless? Feeling so tainted I'm surprised I haven't yet rubbed that filth on you? Or how I really am only a pretty face and nothing more but that too is getting uglier every day and now I look death warmed? The way I'd fall apart if I selfishly didn't cling to you? The fact that it has forced you to put your life on hold for me? How I have absolutely nothing to offer and hate myself for it?"

That… was more of a reaction than Geralt had expected. Or knew what to do with. Each word kept twisting a knife deeper and deeper into his heart. It was terrible to think Jaskier constantly battling those thoughts.

"Jaskier…"

"Was that enough? Or do you want more reasons?" Jaskier asked, voice heated and shaking. "I can go on."

"That's enough. You made it clear what you think of yourself but none of it is true. I know I can't make you believe me yet but that's fine," it wasn't fine. Geralt wanted to rip every horrible thought out of Jaskier's head and hold him close until the bard would be alright again.

"Jaskier, you were listing things you fear, not things you are. You're not pathetic or useless, not tainted or anything else you said," it was hard not to raise his voice but Geralt wouldn't give in to the urge again.

Once in a conversation was more than enough.

"I haven't put my life on hold. How could I since my life is, and will be, with you now, Jaskier. I don't-" Geralt choked on his words as he realized what he had said.

The anger and self-loathing on Jaskier's face were melting away, replaced by wonder and dawning dread. Oh, fuck, at least it worked as a good if accidental diversion. Geralt had no idea how he might have started to untangle, even try to, all that at once.

"...Geralt, please… I know I teased you about the ring box but don't do this. Don't joke about wanting to spend your life with me," Jaskier said pained, turning his face away.

Why the fuck did it have to be so hard to share his feelings on purpose? The moment Geralt had caught up with his mouth, the words had started dying. He needed to tell Jaskier that hadn't been a joke.

The words weren't coming out

Instead Jaskier kept wilting the longer they stayed in silence, looking shattered as he huddled into the blanket.

"Jaskier," Geralt knew his tone wasn't pleasant, too many walls and guards up. "It wasn't."

That made Jaskier look at him again.

"I wouldn't," hopefully the bard would understand.

Jaskier knew what Geralt was trying to say. He didn't know how to believe it.

Just because Geralt loved him didn't mean that the Witcher would want to build a life together. They could just continue on as they always had, traveling on and off with the only constant being separating for the winter, the only change being how they acted when together now. That was how Jaskier had imagined it'd be from now on the very few times he had briefly thought about the future. It was difficult to think Geralt would want anything else.

This was already more than Jaskier had hoped for.

"Geralt… Thank you. It's fine."

"What?" Geralt asked, still sounding just as accidentally hostile as in his reassurances.

"For not meaning to joke. It's fine," Jaskier didn't want to specify more or allude to what he thought Geralt might have tried to say. It already felt like everything had gone off the rails the moment he had asked Geralt to touch him.

It had been a bad idea, hadn't it? He really didn't want things to stay like they were but nothing good had come from it.

"I wasn't joking," Geralt growled.

Ah. The Witcher wanted to do this, not taking the way out left for him. Jaskier wondered if it'd be rude to tell Geralt to shut it.

"I meant what I said."

Too late.

Jaskier wasn't sure why he didn't want to hear Geralt affirming his love. Usually he craved it like a starving man dreaming of a warm loaf of bread.

Right now it only hurt.

"..." Maybe Geralt would drop it if he didn't get a response.

"..." the Witcher glared silently back at him.

This was ridiculous.

"Okay, great, you weren't joking. Splendid. Let's move on," Jaskier broke the silence, averting his eyes and scrambling up. "Look at that, a cloud. Maybe it'll start to rain. Let's go. Roach isn't an actual fish. She doesn't need to get wet."

Jaskier started to gather up their things far too aware of the Witcher's gaze on him. He knew he was hurting Geralt with the way he was brushing the declaration off. He couldn't handle it right now. It was too much. Jaskier had known, _known_ , a relationship would be a really fucking lot to handle. He had tried to talk himself out of the mere concept once.

But he was weak and wanting, drawn to Geralt like a moth to a flame.

He just couldn't start planning long-term at the moment. Not in general and definitely not romantically. The mere concept of tomorrow was difficult. Rest of their lives were impossible.

He should explain it. Geralt would understand.

Geralt would also argue that him staying with the Witcher continuously from now on as he was would be perfectly fine. Jaskier knew it wasn't. Had tried to be honest in making Geralt see what an utter wreck he was, how he didn't have anything to offer. Just because he didn't want to let go of Geralt didn't mean the Witcher would have to take care of him forever. They could just continue as always, parting ways once winter would start to come around in a couple of months. Geralt deserved a break from him.

But for now Jaskier didn't want to contemplate the future.

It was enough that he believed there could be one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That didn't go according to Jaskier's plan.
> 
> I'm taking next week off since I'm visiting family! 
> 
> Won't have much time for writing until next week's Sunday. Haven't seen them since Christmas and I met my niece for the first time yesterday! She was born on valentine's day so she's tiny af.


	58. Chapter 58

Jaskier woke up screaming.

It was too dark to see but his legs were pinned down under Marden's weight while the king's hands were everywhere smearing his skin with Geralt's blood. There was a loud knocking sound. He needed to get away. Needed to help Geralt. He needed to-

"Jaskier, you're safe. Safe."

There was suddenly light, forcing Jaskier to close his eyes and cover them with a hand.

There was no resistance to the movement.

No one stopped him as he rolled farther away from the voice, landing on the floor.

"Jaskier, you're safe. Open your eyes and look around. You're at the inn. It's safe here. Tell me what you see."

Jaskier knew that voice.

"...Ge-Geralt…?"

"Yes. What else is here?"

Jaskier wasn't sure why the situation felt so familiar as he started to list things his tear blurred vision picked up. He had almost grasped the answer when the same loud knocking repeating wrenched it away.

"Ignore it, Jaskier. You're safe. Focus on me. Focus on what you see."

This time the answer returned quickly.

"Hi…" Jaskier whispered as he settled to lean against the bed instead of using it as a cover, relieved Geralt was still here.

If he hadn't already been crying, he would have started to from pure frustration as he realized having had yet another violent nightmare. Two nights of absolutely no dreams and now this. Just because he had saved the last potion for later, not having wanted to use them all up at once.

"Jaskier. What do you need?" Geralt asked softly, not moving closer.

"A new brain. Or a spell to turn back time," Jaskier mumbled, trying to dry his tears.

"Hmmm."

"Water?" he could already feel a headache building.

"Can I come to you?" Geralt asked after pouring him a mug, face tense.

"...Yes."

Geralt sat down just at the arms reach to be able to give him the drink but not getting any closer. It was probably a good thing. Jaskier wasn't sure if he wanted to melt against Geralt and prove for good the Witcher was alive or run away. If only there was a way to do both.

"Your beads are on the nightstand," Geralt reminded him, making Jaskier realize he had started to bite his nails.

With a nod Jaskier reached to retrieve them, focusing his anxious fidgeting on the necklace instead of himself. It really was the better alternative. He didn't want to accidentally hurt himself. Definitely not do damage to his fingers. It had been awful when he had made them so sore it had hindered playing the lute.

"Want to talk about it?" Geralt asked.

"Mhmmm, the usual. Only more intense than normally," Jaskier mumbled, focusing on tangling and untangling the beads. Realizing that the hadn't shared his nightmares with the Witcher before, he continued. "Just… just images of what happened mixed with what could have been."

Geralt clenched his jaw the way that meant he was biting down on angry words.

Jaskier wondered if they would have been about how he had decided to forgo the sleeping draught.

"I offered to undress for him," Jaskier blurted out.

"What?" Geralt asked sharply.

"In the garden. Marden was talking about how he had bought me. How I had already accepted his claim, wearing clothes he paid for. I told him I could return them right away," Jaskier felt his voice crack. "Did I instill the thought in his mind?"

"No."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Jaskier, people don't just suddenly decide sexual assault is a fine thing to do because someone tries to get out of a threatening situation," Geralt said steadily, holding unwavering eye contact. "Marden was already ready to do it, had definitely been doing so for a long time to other people before you."

"Mmm," Jaskier wasn't sure it hadn't been the reason why Marden had taken that sort of interest in him.

"Jaskier, you told me earlier you could briefly accept you aren't to blame. Focus on that feeling."

That was true. Jaskier wasn't sure if it had been a moment of delusion or clarity. It had been nice.

He couldn't feel it.

But he did want to get closer to Geralt.

"Can I hold your hand?" Jaskier asked, shuffling towards the Witcher.

"Always," Geralt answered promptly, offering his hand.

Jaskier let out a sigh as he settled down next to him, not quite touching, and started to trace patterns into Geralt's palm.The calluses on the Witcher's hand were in completely different places from Jaskier's own but had become just as familiar.

"Sorry for disturbing your sleep. It must have been great to have gotten full nights without needing to calm me down."

"Don't apologize," Geralt huffed predictably.

"No, this time I really do think you deserve one. I could have avoided this if I had drank that potion," Jaskier said matter of fact.

Geralt gave him a nonplussed look but did let it go. "Can you go back to sleep?"

Probably not.

"I can try. ...Do you mind if I take the bedroll…?" it was impossible to look Geralt in the eye.

"Sure," Geralt's voice was soft as he agreed.

It was still before noon when Jaskier was sitting in front of their small table trying to work on the ballad. Geralt had just left to take care of Roach but his anxiety was already rising. Maybe it was because of yesterday and the nightmare. Whatever the reason, Jaskier didn't like it. He had started to get used to being able to hold on at least for a while before nervousness began to swallow him.

Abandoning his pen, Jaskier switched to fidgeting with the beads with both hands in an attempt to center himself. He didn't know what was triggering this. Aside from being alone. The thought kept circling around his head, making it harder to focus on keeping his breathing steady. Having a clear reason was far more preferable. Then he could at least try to work through it.

But this was just an oppressive cloud of anxiety hanging over him.

The rapid tapping of his heel was starting to turn irritating so Jaskier got up to pace around, not stopping tangling his beads for a second.

Jaskier wondered if Geralt actually wanted to return to him anymore after the cold response he had given the Witcher over the attempted conversation about their future. Jaskier knew Geralt would come back. He just wasn't sure how begrudgingly.

Jaskier had known he'd fuck this up with his problems.

He had to force a sob to stay in his aching chest.

He didn't want to start crying once again. Breathing was hard enough as it was. Muttering the names of the objects laying around the room didn't do anything at this stage.

It was disappointing.

The dark cloud was starting to crush him.

Jaskier could feel his fingers getting numb.

His breath was starting to catch.

There was coldness spreading outward from his aching chest.

He couldn't handle this.

Couldn't.

Absolutely terrified of what he was going to do, Jaskier hurried out of the door.

Jaskier could have cried when he saw Brajan manning the bar.

He might actually have started to.

Jaskier wasn't sure.

He wasn't sure of many things.

"Jask- ier, what's wrong?" Brajan's voice turned from pleasant to worried the moment he realized the state he was.

"Geralt… not here…" Jaskier forced out in between his shallow and quickening breaths.

The innkeeper had been incredibly kind and helpful so far. Maybe, just maybe, this was safe. Geralt had deemed Brajan to be so. The man was also already aware of what kind of a fucking wreck he was. Had witnessed it. And Jaskier was convinced he would have suffocated to death by now if he had stayed in the room.

"Kitchen?" Brajan asked, already gesturing Jaskier to follow.

On wooden legs Jaskier did so.

"Zofia, could you man the counter? I need to help a customer," The innkeeper asked his wife as he briefly poked his head into the inn's kitchen before heading to the family's.

Sitting down in a chair Brajan had pulled out for him, Jaskier folded into himself, finally losing his fight against a complete breakdown. He couldn't do anything but cry and desperately try to draw air into his lungs, hands tangling into his hair and tugging it, painful in their grip. He was faintly aware of something warm and heavy being placed around his shoulders and a voice attempting to get his attention.

Jaskier only cried harder, unable to rein himself in.

He had absolutely no idea how long it took before Brajan's words started to filter in, coaxing him to list things around and assuring he was safe. It was hard recalling what the things he saw were called. Even harder getting the words out between the too rapid breaths and a throat hurting from the violent sobbing.

It could have been years before Jaskier took the first relatively calm breaths.

He couldn't lift his face to look at Brajan, too ashamed of having ran to him for help. He was pathetic, purposefully inconveniencing the innkeeper like this.

"Jaskier?" Brajan asked soothingly. "Would you like tea?"

Jaskier gave a small nod, drawing the weighted blanket tighter around himself.

They stayed in silence until the innkeeper had served him tea and sat across from Jaskier with a cup of his own. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Jaskier didn't know. Instead he just twirled his spoon in the tea, staring at it and hoping the beverage would give him the answers.

"You don't have to."

"Aren't you afraid people will take advantage of your kindness?" Jaskier asked so quietly he wasn't sure if Brajan could hear him.

"No."

Apparently he had.

"I like helping people. I don't think there's a way for anyone take advantage of something that's freely given," Brajan mused. "It's not like I'll hand over the keys to the inn if someone asks for them."

"Aren't I doing it, taking advantage? Dragging you away from your work," Jaskier said, tapping the spoon nervously against the mug's rim.

"Like I said, freely given," came the firm answer. "I was serious about my offer to talk if you ever want to. This falls under it."

"Mmmm."

"Jaskier, I don't know what happened to you but I do know that no one should try to bear such a thing alone. You do have the Witcher -Geralt- which is very good. But there's only so much one person can do."

Jaskier was well aware how terribly heavy burden he was on Geralt.

"I'm glad you came to me when you needed help," Brajan sounded so sincere it made Jaskier finally look at him.

"Why?" Jaskier asked completely confused. Why would anyone be happy to be disturbed by him having a breakdown?

"Because you shouldn't suffer alone. Because it showed trust," the innkeeper answered seriously. "I'd rather take some time off my day than have you go through that without help. Doesn't matter that we don't really know each other."

Jaskier had no idea what to do with that. If he had any tears left, he'd have started crying again due the kind words. As it was, he just took a sip of his tea to give himself time.

"I really don't like bringing this up now but… Jaskier, I received a complaint about last night," Brajan started, making Jaskier's stomach plummet. "I'm sorry that I can't ignore it."

"Oh gods, no. I'll be silent. I swear. Please, I don't want to get us kicked out again. I'll… I'll stay awake during the nights and sing until morning. Start paying for the room. Please, I swear I won't cause more disturbances!" Jaskier begged desperately. He didn't want a repeat.

"Whoa, calm down. I'm not telling you to leave, Jaskier," Brajan exclaimed quickly. "I was going to ask if it'd be fine with you to switch into another room. We're not fully booked. I could give you one with no neighbors. Hopefully that'd be enough for everyone."

"...Oh…" the relief was making Jaskier feel vaguely faint. "Yeah. Yeah. That's- that's fine."

Brajan was looking at him with a concerned frown. "You said _again_. Did that happen before?"

"Uhhh… Yeah… You might eventually end up hearing the story from someone…" Jaskier trailed off embarrassed. It was definitely only a matter of time.

"Should have known there'd be an actual story behind it," Brajan smiled. "Want to tell it yourself?"

Might as well instead of waiting Brajan to hear the rumors. The innkeeper might find it entertaining to be able to note the differences. With that thought Jaskier started to slowly regale the tale of the unfortunate bar fight.

Geralt didn't know what the feeling churning in his gut was called.

He hadn't expected Jaskier to completely shut down a conversation about how their future might go. Maybe he shouldn't have brought it up. Maybe he had been moving too fast. Maybe Jaskier wasn't even looking for anything more than what they currently had. Maybe Jaskier wished to only keep traveling on and off, separating for the winter as always. Geralt knew he had absolutely no fucking clue how relationships worked.

Whatever the reason, letting Jaskier spend the winter alone in Oxenfurt was the last thing Geralt wanted. It didn't matter that the choice wouldn't have to be made for months yet and it was impossible to know how Jaskier would fare by then. Something might happen to Jaskier and he wouldn't be there to protect the bard.

And even if no new disaster occurred, Jaskier would still need help. There was no fucking way the bard would be completely over and healed from what had happened. Jaskier did have friends and colleagues there but they wouldn't know what was going on. Tymon definitely had gotten the wrong impression. And Geralt doubted Jaskier would share his trauma with them. Jaskier didn't talk much about what had happened to him, even now that he had started to open up more. And he had been there for it, although separated and unable to help. Maybe Jaskier would cave in from the pestering he'd get over all the changes in his behavior but that wouldn't help.

Not if the information was forced from him.

The thought of Jaskier being coerced to do anything made Geralt grind his teeth as a sudden flash of fury shot through him. His tightening grip on the reins made Roach snort in protest.

There was nothing he could or would do if Jaskier truly didn't want to stay with him. The bard was free to walk away and never look back. The thought twisted at something Geralt couldn't name deep inside of him. It wasn't as if he wanted Jaskier to abandon the life he had outside of their travels. But for some reason Geralt had been sure Jaskier would agree with him, also wanting things to change from how they used to be. To at least be happy to talk and plan how they'd make things work long-term.

Nothing had prepared him for the cold and complete shutdown.

Jaskier did truly seem to be head over heels and sincerely in love with him. Not that Geralt knew why the bard would fall for someone as inhuman as him. But there was no denying that Jaskier's feelings were true. It made the utter refusal completely unexpected.

"Roach, why do I feel like someone keeps stabbing me?"

Roach gave another snort and hastened her gait.

"That's not an answer," Geralt complained, letting the mare decide the speed.

Spotting a stream he steered Roach to it, urging her to jump over it, eyes already searching for more obstacles for them to clear. It had been some time since they last had done focused jumping exercises.

"Think I could find a contract here? I spend most of my money on those things for Jaskier. Totally worth it but more than planned."

Roach cleared a fallen tree with ease, ears eagerly pricked and footing sure and confident.

"Maybe Jaskier will feel up to going out today to search for a notice board. We could also stop by some bookstore if there's one to see about a formula for sleeping potions," Geralt mused out loud to Roach as he turned the mare around to return to the inn.

Geralt couldn't hear movement from behind the door leading to their room as he gave the customary knock. It wasn't the first time but he still wasn't sure if he preferred that or some noise. Both could be a prelude for finding Jaskier in a bad shape.

Geralt wasn't prepared for the room to be empty.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!"

Where the fuck had the bard gone? Geralt swore to himself he'd wring Jaskier's sorry neck if he had gone to try have a bath. It was something idiotic enough for Jaskier to decide to do. Storming downstairs Geralt headed straight to the bar to find out if that really had happened.

"Did you draw a bath for the bard?" Geralt growled at the woman manning the counter. He couldn't give a shit about sounding threatening.

He needed to find Jaskier.

Now.

"No! He's with Brajan," she hastily answered, taking a step back. "Family kitchen."

Fuck. Had Jaskier had another panic attack while trying to do something at the tavern? Without even a nod of thanks Geralt hurried to the kitchen.

He wasn't prepared for finding Jaskier telling a story to the innkeeper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor bard is having another bad day... But he voluntarily asked for help...!


	59. Chapter 59

Jaskier was describing how Geralt and him had ran out of the previous inn after grabbing their possessions when the Witcher burst into the kitchen, startling him.

"Jaskier!" Geralt snapped, hair's breadth away from yelling.

Jaskier couldn't help but flinch at the tone, one fist clenching around his beads and the other grabbing hold of the weighted blanket around his shoulders. "...Geralt, you're back."

"What did you do?" Geralt asked, marching to him.

Shit. The Witcher was angry. It shouldn't be a problem, Jaskier was very familiar with Geralt's temper. He was suddenly feeling cold and his mouth was getting dry, anxiety spiking up in response to the aggression aimed at him.

"I'm sorry," Jaskier didn't know what he was apologizing for specifically.

But he needed to.

There had to be something he had done wrong.

"What did you do?" Geralt repeated with a glower, squatting down by him.

Jaskier could only shrug mutely, not knowing the answer. It was clear the Witcher wasn't asking about the panic attack he had had.

"He didn't do anything," Brajan interjected, making Geralt's glare focus on him. "Except for seeking help."

"Help," the Witcher echoed, looking between Jaskier and the innkeeper.

"Yes."

Closing his eyes Geralt let out a deep exhale, shoulders relaxing slightly.

"Sorry," Jaskier mumbled, earning stern looks from both men.

"Don't," Geralt stated.

"Don't apologize," Brajan said at the same time.

Jaskier kept fidgeting with the beads, not completely agreeing. Not that he'd voice it. He did know what the rebuttal would be. It just didn't feel right to keep making others deal with his problems.

"Jaskier. Never be sorry for needing help. Or wanting it," Geralt said, obviously reading his expression.

"...Sure," Jaskier knew he didn't sound convincing.

"What happened?" Geralt changed the question, using a much softer tone this time.

"Started panicking. Came to Brajan. Had an attack," Jaskier summed up, not feeling up to a long explanation.

"You _asked_ Brajan to help?" Geralt asked astonished.

It probably had been a mistake. Jaskier knew he should be able to handle a panic attack by himself. They had been occurring for weeks now. Yet he still couldn't really do it.

"That's good. Really good," Geralt said, a small smile threatening to form. Turning to the innkeeper he continued. "Thank you."

Jaskier was sure the Witcher didn't mean to sound as terse in his thanks as he did.

"You're welcome," Brajan blinked surprised. "I was glad to do it."

There was no lie on the innkeeper's face that Jaskier could detect. It was weird how a stranger seemed to want to be burdened by him. Brajan surely had enough on his plate without him adding to it with his breakdowns. Even worse, Jaskier knew he was selfish enough to seek the innkeeper out again if he felt like he was suffocating to death, too overwhelmed to do or remember anything and Geralt was out.

"Do you want to go rest?" Geralt focused on Jaskier again. "Or get lunch? You need to eat."

"Lunch is on me," Brajan said immediately, nodding in agreement.

Eating was the last thing Jaskier wanted to do. "Sure, but I'll pay. You've done far too much for me already."

"Jaskier, your performances are drawing people here nightly. You've more than earned meals being added to our deal," the innkeeper countered sounding resolute.

"I'm paying," Jaskier repeated, taking coins out before there could be more objections.

Brajan gave a displeased noise before nodding. "I'll bring the food to you after you've taken seats in the tavern."

"Thank you," Jaskier said as he stood up on still weak legs, starting to head there.

"Geralt, could I talk to you later?" Brajan asked as the Witcher passed him.

"Fine," Geralt agreed after a brief pause.

Jaskier had a feeling that he knew exactly what the topic would be. It wasn't a pleasant thought, people talking about him behind his back.

"Jaskier, how are you?" Geralt asked, sitting on the edge of the mattress where the bard was laying underneath the covers.

"...tired," came the quiet answer.

"Hmmm."

It'd have been surprising if Jaskier wasn't exhausted after a mostly sleepless night plagued by nightmares and having a panic attack. He had been able to barely eat anything to top it off. It might be for the best not to even ask about going out. Jaskier would probably agree regardless of how he actually felt.

"Geralt, I'm so sorry for causing another disturbance last night. Brajan just moved us to a different room but… what if when it happens again he'll kick us out?" Jaskier mumbled, sounding far too concerned.

"Then we'd travel on," Geralt said simply. "But I doubt he'd do it. Not without trying to find another solution."

"Mmmm."

Those noncommittal responses still felt wrong to Geralt. It was hard to get rid of the expectations born from all the days and months and years they had spent together and known each other. Geralt knew he needed to let them go and keep adapting to the current behavior.

"Stop fretting and go to sleep," Geralt stated, being gripped by an urge to caress Jaskier's too pale cheek.

He wouldn't. But it was hard not to touch the bard almost at all. Geralt had never regarded himself as a tactile man but he kept wanting to draw Jaskier against himself to sooth all the distress away, to kiss, and undeniably have sex with him. To simply be close.

Maybe it would never happen.

Geralt had no plans to leave regardless.

"Do you mind if I go check what Brajan wants?" Geralt asked reluctantly. He wasn't looking forward to leaving Jaskier alone for the second time today. Even though he'd be only downstairs and wouldn't be gone for long.

"No. Feel free to go," Jaskier answered with a yawn and an apprehensive look in his eyes. "Don't worry about me."

"Hmph," that was impossible.

"Seriously. You aren't shackled to me, Geralt."

It was true. But strangely enough, Geralt wouldn't mind being metaphorically tied to the bard. It was hard to know what he was supposed to do with how aware he suddenly was of his emotions. They had been kept so muted for almost all of his life he had doubted they existed at all. Like he was told. Witchers were emotionless and unfeeling, existing only as tools for hunting monsters, that was what he heard repeatedly. Yet here he was, experiencing a barrage of emotions he didn't know how to untangle.

Fucking Jaskier. Causing problems even without doing anything.

"I'll do it once you've fallen asleep," Geralt decided, causing the bard to flush.

"I'm not a child. You don't have to tuck me in," Jaskier snapped. "Go."

Geralt was sure they both knew there was a slim chance that the bard would fall asleep when alone. It was a grim fact that Jaskier still didn't feel safe enough to let himself be so vulnerable without him guarding his sleep.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes!"

"Fine. I'll be back soon," Geralt acquiesced. "If you need anything at all, come find me. Or yell. I'll hear you."

"Sure, sure," Jaskier waived his hand dismissively.

Geralt knew better than to believe that.

The same middle-aged woman who Geralt guessed to be Zofia was still behind the counter when he approached it. She was already looking at him with a frown.

"Where's Brajan?" Geralt asked her, aiming for more cordial than last time.

"Kitchen. The inn's this time," Zofia answered, sounding a bit wary of him. "You can go there."

Geralt made sure to nod at her in thanks.

Brajan was cutting meat and chatting with a teenage girl who was weaving a basket when Geralt stopped at the doorway. He didn't have long to survey the scene before the girl spotted him and fell silent.

"Ah, Geralt. Come in," Brajan greeted him as he turned to look what had silenced his company. "You can sit with Ella. She's my youngest."

Ella's face was both scared and excited as Geralt took a seat across from her. He was sure she had served food for him and Jaskier more than once but apparently the novelty of a Witcher hadn't yet worn off.

Finishing their conversation, Brajan urged Ella to gather her unfinished basket and supplies to continue elsewhere. Good. Geralt didn't want to talk with the innkeeper in front of her.

"I hope you don't mind me working while we talk?" Brajan asked, dropping the chopped meat in a large pot.

"No."

"Great. I also hope you don't mind that I'm going to talk frankly. I'm aware you could kill me with your pinky if you wanted to but I honestly don't think you're that kind of a person. At least you wouldn't harm me for Jaskier's sake if nothing else in case I'm wrong," Brajan continued, surprising Geralt.

"It's said Witchers don't have emotions but I don't think that's true. No one who acts like you do around Jaskier can be emotionless. Which is why you need to rein your temper in. Didn't you notice his reaction? You scared him, bursting in with accusations and anger. He had just had a bad panic attack and you acting like that didn't -doesn't- help."

"How bad?" Geralt asked. Jaskier hadn't shared details.

"Very. Jaskier wasn't even aware of anything around himself for a long time. He was also hurting himself, pulling on his hair," Brajan sounded pained. "It wasn't good. Worse than either one I've witnessed."

Fuck.

"What would you have done if you had triggered a relapse?"

A fucking good question.

After waiting for an answer that didn't come, Brajan started to talk again. "I'm concerned for Jaskier. Maybe it's weird for me to say that or having gotten involved at all being just a stranger, but I can't help it. He's clearly ill and terrified. Doesn't help he's probably not that much older than Olga. I'm already crossing all sorts of boundaries so I'll just ask. Was Jaskier taken advantage of?"

"You're stepping on fucking thin ice," Geralt growled the warning, hands forming fists.

There was absolutely no fucking way he would share something like that. It was Jaskier's decision whether or not to tell or whom to trust with it.

Brajan closed his eyes and took a shaky inhale. Apparently the innkeeper decided his response was a confirmation.

"It makes sense. Jaskier keeps being afraid of taking advantage of me, of my help. Scared of what I might want in return. Scared in general. Shyes and flinches away from people," Brajan nodded, returning to chopping carrots. "I keep my eyes open for that sort of heinous acts. No drunkard is going to drag my daughters to some corner, thinking barmaids are for all sorts of services. Not if I can do anything about it."

Geralt wondered if the innkeeper would get his knife stuck in the wood of the cutting board with the excessive force he had started to use.

"I'm returning the coins Jaskier paid me. I was serious about upgrading our deal. Our profits have been better than usual since he started performing here. I just didn't want to argue with him over it. If either of you ends up paying for meals, I'll give the money back to you later," Brajan managed to surprise Geralt again.

It was hard to believe that the innkeeper really was doing this out of kindness, not expecting to be paid in some way. But the man did seem completely sincere. And Geralt knew the deal wasn't a rare one. Jaskier had struck them more than once, although usually they didn't include meals for also him. It wasn't often someone wanted to feed a Witcher for free.

"What are you getting out of this?" didn't stop Geralt from asking.

"Would satisfaction of being able to help be answer enough for you?" Brajan inquired.

"Better than saying you want nothing," Geralt granted. People didn't do anything willingly without feeling like they were gaining something.

"Good. I don't want to argue with you either. Which reminds me, I don't appreciate you snarling at my wife. Please don't do it again," Brajan threw a brief glare at Geralt as if to make a point.

The innkeeper really had a pair, feeling confident enough to actually reprimand him, and more than once at that. Not many did that, far too scared of him. Of Witchers in general. It was refreshing in a way, meeting someone else than Jaskier who didn't seem to care about what he was. And it wasn't out of ignorance either, Brajan was well aware how deadly he was.

"Geralt, my offer to talk is for you too. I know first hand how hard it's to witness someone you care about going through panic attacks and heightened anxiety. Even if the reasons are different," the innkeeper softened his voice again. "But I have Zofia to talk with. I don't think you've been able to voice most of your thoughts in an attempt to not make Jaskier deal with those too on top of everything else."

How the fuck did Brajan manage to take him continuously off-guard? Geralt was sure no other human except for Jaskier had tried to make him seriously talk about his feelings. Not before this. People preferred to make jabs at the well spread knowledge of Witchers being emotionless.

"No," Geralt shot the offer down.

"Do you prefer shouting at Jaskier?" Brajan asked nonplussed by the immediate refusal.

Of course Geralt fucking didn't. He still wasn't going to start sharing his feelings with him. Geralt fixed a deadly glare at the innkeeper, making Brajan tense up briefly.

"At least think about it, okay? You're going to hurt him eventually. And from what I heard, you've already done it to outsiders," Brajan sighed. "I won't stand for violence here. As much as I don't want to, I will ask you to leave if you end up acting out like at the previous inn."

The innkeeper putting his foot down about the conduct while staying made Geralt feel better. That was expected and reasons clear.

"Understood."

Jaskier hated how instead of falling asleep he was starting to tremble as minutes passed and Geralt wasn't returning. He didn't want to be like this. But Geralt was the only constant in his life, the only one he could be absolutely sure of not having any hidden intentions. The only safety he had. Aside from Roach and as wonderful as she was, she also was only a horse. It was hard trying to make the sense of security spread out to include anything else. Everything was temporary with the way they traveled, having to move on just as he was starting to get used to the environment and people he saw regularly. And then he would be surrounded by unknowns and possible threats he just was missing again.

Jaskier timed his breathing to match the pace he used for opening and closing the ring box Geralt had gifted him. The rhythmic clacking of the lid was helping him to stay present and aware, not getting completely swept into anxiety and hypervigilance. He still startled badly when the familiar knocking announced Geralt was about to enter the room.

"Geralt, please, come sit with me," Jaskier requested as soon as the door opened, not caring how desperate he sounded. The only thing he cared about was having the Witcher near him.

"Did something happen?" Geralt asked as he sat down on the mattress.

"Nothing. I meant here. If you want to," Jaskier said as he patted the bed proper, instead of the edge where the Witcher had sat down.

"If you're sure," Geralt got up and strode to the other side of the bed to climb in, careful not to touch as he sat down.

"Thank you," Jaskier could already feel some of the anxiety draining away. Turning onto his back to see Geralt he reached out. "Can I hold your hand?"

In response Geralt simply intertwined their fingers without a comment. The warmth was anchoring Jaskier into his own body, into the present. Making sure he wouldn't float away. Geralt's slow breaths were guiding his own into a normal tempo, away from the shallow and ineffectual they had been turning into. Closing his eyes, Jaskier turned his head to rest his forehead against their joined hands, trying to draw strength from the loving gesture.

"I'm sorry about yesterday," Jaskier started quietly. "I acted terribly and hurt you. I didn't mean to shut you out like that."

"Jaskier…" there was a reprimanding tone in Geralt's voice.

"You deserve a proper apology, Geralt. I'm not saying this due to the compulsion I sometimes get," Jaskier said evenly. "I hurt you and knew it yet didn't do anything to repair the situation. But I'd like to try to do it now if you're amicable."

Geralt kept studying him for a bit before nodding. "Of course."

Hearing those two words brought a wave of relief. Maybe, just maybe, he hadn't destroyed his chance with Geralt.

"Geralt, I… I can't think of the future. I just can't. It's hard to stay in the present. Tomorrow is a vague notion. Anything farther than that is a concept I can barely grasp," it was difficult to get the words out with the way his throat kept slowly constricting. "I can't even visualize myself a year from now. It just doesn't exist."

"No. I won't let you do it," Geralt almost growled, grip tightening.

"Oh no, no! Geralt no, I didn't mean I wouldn't be alive! I'm sorry, I should have chosen my wording more carefully," Jaskier exclaimed, matching Geralt's grip with his own and willing the Witcher to see his sincerity. "I'm not nor have been suicidal. I'm so sorry I've made you worry about the possibility."

That fucking jump really had done a number on Geralt. Jaskier hated how he had caused that lingering fear with his own thoughtless and idiotic actions.

"I just don't have any faith things could hold together for that long even if I managed to make a plan. Which I can't. Things are too overwhelming to leave me with enough energy to focus on anything else than here and now," there was a familiar burning feeling building up behind Jaskier's eyes. "I'm sorry I can't give what you want."

"Once fucking again, I don't want anything that's not freely given," Geralt retorted before continuing with a strange expression of mixed emotions. "I'm not asking you to decide what you -we- will do for the rest of our lives, Jaskier. We don't even have to choose what we'll do about the winter yet. And you can always change your mind. Always."

Geralt took a brief pause as he worked his jaw, apparently trying to get uncooperative words out. Jaskier appreciated the effort the Witcher was putting into the conversation.

"I only need you to know that I want you in my life for as long as you're willing to stay, Jaskier," Geralt finally said, sounding almost hostile due to the obvious effort it took him to lower his guards.

Jaskier couldn't hold his tears back anymore. "I'm a disaster. Why would you want that?"

"You're not a disaster and I'm not naive. I know what being with you means," Geralt's tone kept softening the longer he talked. "You're worth it. Worth every second. Worth every hardship. You're worth everything, Jaskier."

"...I'm not. I can't give you enough. Can't offer you what you want. Can't stop making my problems yours," Jaskier mumbled voice thick, wiping at the slowly escaping tears. "I wish I could. I wish I could be what you deserve."

"Stop."

"But I-"

"No. If I got what I deserved, it'd be something far worse."

"Geralt, that's not true," Jaskier protested vehemently. "You deserve the world."

"Doesn't matter either way. What I want is you. To be part of your life," Geralt said forcefully. "In any way you'll allow, if you will allow it."

Jaskier felt how his next words died on his lips, leaving him unable to do anything but stare. The Witcher met his eyes with an unwavering gaze.

"...Geralt…" Jaskier whispered stunned. "I… Yes. I too want to be part of your life."

Geralt leaned against the headboard still and silent, eyes soft.

"Can I…?" Jaskier asked quietly as he switched his grip on Geralt's hand to hold it like a noble lady's and drew it closer.

"Yes."

Jaskier let his lips brush against Geralt's knuckles in a gesture that was almost too light and brief to be called a kiss.

"I love you, Geralt."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The power of communication will lead to the tiniest possible kiss!


	60. Chapter 60

Geralt felt like his heart was suddenly lighter as he watched Jaskier sleep next to him, their hands still joined.

The spot Jaskier had kissed kept tingling.

Geralt knew the intensity of his reaction to the chastest kiss of his life was ridiculous.

It had been enormous.

Maybe they had been trying to do it the wrong way yesterday. Perhaps instead of him trying to touch Jaskier, it should be the bard controlling the situation by getting used to touching someone else first. Jaskier kept demonstrating being more comfortable with that.

Not that Geralt would suggest it today. He didn't want Jaskier to worry about anything or be forced to make decisions before he had had more time to recover. Geralt had noticed Jaskier had been deferring to him, just gone along with almost anything. He had thought it was because of the general apathy instead of a separate problem. Well, everything was intertwined. But he hadn't thought there was something specific behind the uncharacteristic lack of opinions.

Maybe he should have.

Shifting slightly into a better pose, Geralt realized the stabbing feeling that had been plaguing him had disappeared sometime during the conversation. It was strange how Jaskier's words could cause a reaction like that. At least it was the only explanation he could think of. Jaskier seemed to have been right about having hurt him, even if Geralt himself hadn't been completely aware of it.

Emotionally stunted Witcher and a traumatized bard. They sounded like a start to a distasteful joke.

Jaskier gave a small distressed keening sound, tightening his grip and shuffling closer to Geralt until he could press his forehead against his thigh. Not knowing whether he should move to give Jaskier more space or not, Geralt stayed absolutely still and tried to shush the bard back to peaceful sleep. Within a minute Jaskier settled down, leaving Geralt to his thoughts again.

Jaskier better use the last potion today or gods help him. It'd probably give the bard enough energy to handle going out among people tomorrow to see about potential contracts with him.

While Brajan's upgraded deal would allow them to stay at the inn and eat for free, there'd be other costs like stabling Roach. If there wasn't a formula for sleeping potions available, those would have to be bought ready-made. Using them wouldn't be a lasting solution but it was perfect for now. Jaskier needed a chance to get actual rest and allow his body and mind to start recovering from the incredibly high stress the bard was locked in.

It'd be necessary to buy a few more bead necklaces too. The current one would break sooner rather than later with the way the bard kept constantly worrying it and Geralt didn't want to see Jaskier's reaction to not having something to discreetly and constantly fidget with. The bard would probably return to nail biting, even though he'd still have the ring box.

And that was unacceptable.

With a sigh Geralt decided he had to wake Jaskier up for dinner. Disturbing what little sleep the bard got always felt wrong but it was getting late. They needed to move to the tavern.

"Jaskier, wake up. We have to go get dinner," Geralt said softly, getting off the bed so Jaskier wouldn't wake up having his face pressed against his thigh.

With a disgruntled noise Jaskier opened one eye to a sliver before grabbing a pillow to smush his face into it.

It shouldn't be as cute as it was.

"Jaskier. Get up," Geralt huffed, careful not to let the sentiment show in his tone.

"No."

"Up," Geralt commanded, taking hold of the blanket Jaskier was underneath and unceremoniously yanked it off.

"Geraaaalt, give it back," Jaskier whined, making grabby hands in the general direction he thought Geralt was standing, not bothering to lift his head to check.

"Dinner. Now."

Jaskier finally rolled over to sit on the edge of the mattress with a drawn out sigh of protest. Geralt had to admit he'd like to let the bard go back to sleep with the way he drooped with exhaustion, spent from the panic attack and conversation. But food was more important.

Food really was more important currently than sleeping, Geralt noted displeased as Jaskier once again spent the time moving it around his plate instead of eating. It made him want to force the dinner into the bard. Geralt wondered if he should try to bribe Jaskier into eating by starting to buy him pastries or something else sweet. Wouldn't be very nutritional but still better than nothing.

It was still just as disquieting as in the beginning, needing to make sure Jaskier took care of himself. Geralt knew it wasn't a fair thought but it was almost reminiscent of caring for a child with the way he had to make sure the bard didn't neglect basic necessities. The strange thing was that he didn't mind reminding Jaskier nearly as much as he would have thought. But things would be far easier for both of them once Jaskier shook off his deep, debilitating depression. Geralt was sure it'd happen. Eventually.

"Everything alright?" Geralt asked, noticing Jaskier staring at his lute with a blank look.

"Mhmm."

"Jaskier?" that wasn't a good sign. "Talk to me."

"Just tired. Trying to figure out what to play," Jaskier said absently, starting to worry his beads.

Full if short sentences were better.

"Jaskier, keep your performance brief, okay?" Geralt cautioned, gaining a glare from the bard.

"I'm going to sing as long as I please," Jaskier told him affronted. "You have no say in how I do my job."

Geralt swallowed an irritated retort and switched it for a more neutral one, trying to keep his cool. "Just don't push yourself."

"Mmm."

Jaskier better not do it out of sheer fucking stubbornness now.

As Jaskier got up and walked the few steps away from him, not sparing him even a glance, Geralt had a sinking feeling the bard was about to do exactly that. The longer Jaskier stayed away, the more convinced he got. Jaskier's faked ease was starting to crack, his back and shoulders stiffening and signs of hypervigilance cropping up. Geralt wanted to get up and march the bard back to their room before the idiot could make the situation worse. Instead he had to sit at the table and follow from the sidelines what was happening. He had once already interfered and made Jaskier furious. Better not to repeat the same mistake.

Suddenly the music fell apart, being the only warning before Jaskier crumbled to the floor. Heart in his throat Geralt ran the few steps to his side as worried exclamations rang out.

"Jaskier!" Geralt breathed, relieved the bard was already coming around. "Don't try to move yet."

"...Uhhh…" Jaskier mumbled, eyelashes fluttering.

"Back off!" Geralt snapped to well-meaning patrons getting too close. There was no fucking way he'd let anyone touch or crowd Jaskier, no matter how helpful the person tried to be.

"What happened…?" Jaskier asked confused, starting to return back to awareness.

"You fainted," Geralt informed the bard, doing his best to keep his tone steady and not show the intense worry making his heart thud painfully against his ribcage.

"Oh. So that's why I'm on the floor," Jaskier blinked at him looking still dazed.

"Are you alright, Jaskier?" Brajan asked, appearing behind Geralt.

"I guess?" Jaskier didn't sound very sure, making Geralt clench his hands into fists so he wouldn't touch the bard.

It got even harder as Jaskier struggled to sit up and immediately tucked his head between his knees, taking deep breaths.

"Dizzy," the bard croaked an explanation, not moving. "Need a moment."

"Take as long as you need," Geralt said before turning to Brajan. "Go get water."

With a nod the innkeeper retreated, encouraging everyone to return to their tables and leave them alone. Geralt was half surprised when people did indeed start returning to what they had been doing.

Didn't stop them from talking and staring.

"Feeling better?" Geralt asked as Jaskier lifted his head again, still looking paler than he had an hour ago.

"Room isn't spinning anymore," Jaskier murmured, focusing on him. Expression turning alarmed he continued urgently. "My lute? Did it break?"

"I don't think so," Geralt stated, watching as the bard hastily pulled the instrument onto his lap to go over the possible damage with trembling fingers. "You didn't fall on it."

Jaskier didn't seem to pay much attention to the answer, too busy checking for himself. He stopped only when Brajan returned and placed the water on the floor next to Jaskier to avoid accidental contact.

"Thanks," Jaskier said quietly to the innkeeper before taking a sip. "I'm so sorry for causing a disruption. I'll continue in a minute."

"No. You need to rest," Brajan looked aghast.

Good. There was no chance in hell Geralt would let Jaskier continue performing. The bard was aware that he would stop self-destructive behavior and that would absolutely fall under it.

Noticing Jaskier opening his mouth, Geralt cut him off before the bard managed to get even one word out. "Brajan is right, you won't sing more tonight. We'll return to our room once you can walk."

"Could you bring something light to eat? And more water," Geralt focused briefly on the innkeeper.

"Of course," Brajan agreed and headed towards the kitchen again.

"Can you stand up? Or want help?" Geralt asked Jaskier, itching to carry him to their room.

"I think so. And no," the bard answered and proved himself right as he managed to slowly get up on shaking legs.

Jaskier could almost feel Geralt's intense stare as he slowly moved a spoon around in the thin porridge Brajan had brought him. He knew he needed to eat. The lack of food was probably why he had fainted, causing an embarrassing scene. Jaskier reluctantly admitted to himself it was a miracle he hadn't done so earlier.

But eating was hard.

He was vaguely nauseated a lot of the time when he thought about food, let alone when it was in front of him. Everything tasted like like ash almost all the time. He didn't even really register hunger anymore. Eating had turned into a tiring struggle, one that didn't feel worth the effort. Keeping himself from starving to death was enough.

Except Jaskier knew it wasn't true.

Or even remotely healthy.

With a defeated sigh Jaskier finally started to slowly eat. Geralt's expression kept getting less pinched with each spoonful. In any other circumstances he would have commented on the Witcher's avid interest in watching. Geralt didn't seem to be even blinking.

"You can't keep continuing like this," Geralt stated, breaking the silence.

"...I know," Jaskier agreed quietly.

"You're practically starving yourself. You've become underweight in less than a month. The progress you've made will deteriorate if you don't start eating, Jaskier," Geralt said, whole body tense.

"I know," Jaskier repeated. "It just makes me feel ill most of the time. Even the thought of it. I don't want to throw up."

"Because you haven't been eating. You need to break the cycle. I understand you physically can't suddenly continue eating normally, Jaskier," Geralt nodded. "Let's start with not completely skipping meals anymore and ordering only light things. I'll refuse to move before you've managed to finish even part of the meal each time if that's what it takes."

"Not like we're in a hurry," Jaskier sighed resigned.

"I'm sorry- I mean, thank you, for taking care of me since I can't do it myself," he couldn't keep his voice from cracking. "I don't know where I'd be without you, Geralt."

"Surviving. Fighting. Getting better. Maybe slower but still doing it," Geralt clearly believed each word he said.

"I'm not so sure," Jaskier shook his head.

"Don't think about it then. It didn't happen. It won't happen."

Jaskier gave Geralt a small tired and fond smile. "If only I could be that straightforward."

"Hmmm."

"Sorry I can't finish," Jaskier said handing the bowl to Geralt, feeling tremendously guilty about doing so right after the conversation.

Geralt's lips twitched unhappily but he didn't comment.

Jaskier was grateful for it.

"Could you bring me the sleeping potion, please?" he asked, wondering when it had turned natural to request Geralt to bring him things so he wouldn't have to get up. "I'd like to have one last peaceful night."

"Good," the Witcher said emphatically, retrieving the bottle. "We'll just get more later."

"Neither of us can afford them, Geralt," Jaskier reminded the Witcher, unstoppering the bottle.

"Stop worrying and go to sleep," Geralt replied, eyes gentler than his tone.

Jaskier stared at the breakfast he was slowly getting through and tried to ignore the way Geralt kept staring at him in return. The Witcher was keeping to his word, refusing to move. Jaskier wondered what would be the acceptable amount of food he had to swallow before Geralt would be satisfied.

"Do you feel up to going out to see if there's contracts available?" Geralt asked, not stopping his staring.

"Sure, why not," Jaskier shrugged. He should be able to handle it. "It'll be a nice change from these walls."

"Hmmm."

Geralt sat still for another five minutes before apparently deeming he had reached the relatively healthy amount and stood up. Jaskier was more than happy to abandon rest of his breakfast and head out of the inn.

Following Geralt close behind Jaskier was glad to notice it was slightly easier to be in the crowd than last time. It was still horrible and kept him startling constantly but at least he wasn't terrified. Currently. Yet. Jaskier was sure it'd happen if they stayed for long among the people.

"Did you spot a notice board last time?" Jaskier asked, looking around completely lost.

"Yes," the Witcher answered, not slowing down.

"No need to hunt for it this time then," Jaskier drawled before flinching away from a man passing him. The almost brush of arms left his heart thrumming too fast.

"Stay close," Geralt told him as the market square came within sight.

It was an unnecessary order. Jaskier had absolutely no plans to separate from Geralt. Instead he took a half step closer to the Witcher to be better shielded. There were too many people around. Within few minutes they arrived in front of the notice board and Jaskier gave a relieved sigh as he leaned against it, watching people walk by. With Geralt next to him and the wood behind his back there wouldn't be many opportunities for anyone to grab him.

"Find anything?" Jaskier asked as Geralt stayed silent, perusing the flyers.

"No," Geralt gave an irritated huff.

"Oh. That's not good. The tavern patrons aren't very wealthy so I'm not making that much profit. Not to mention same faces won't keep paying me night after night," Jaskier said, winding and unwinding his beads around his fingers. "I can afford to keep Roach taken care of and other necessities for now but it won't leave much to spend."

"Which isn't that big of a problem as long as someone doesn't want to buy all sorts of frivolous things," Jaskier gave a meaningful look at Geralt.

"Not frivolous," Geralt rebutted immediately. "Important."

Jaskier closed his eyes and gave a long suffering huff. The things he had gotten and been given were helpful but not essential. Not even the sleeping draughts. He had survived without them and would continue doing so. Regardless of how tempting dreamless nights were. If he just could pull himself together he could stop wasting both of their money.

"Do you think you can handle a trip to see if the alderman has something needing to be done?" Geralt asked, assessing Jaskier.

"Lead the way," Jaskier gestured the Witcher to start walking. It didn't matter whether or not he felt up to it.

Hopefully he could do it.

Jaskier's trepidation turned into amusement as a bored clerk advised them to take a seat while waiting for the alderman to see them. There just was something about the Witcher being directed to the waiting area of the town hall and the contrast he made against the regular people sitting there.

Bureaucracy spared no one.

It didn't take long for the flash of good humor to dissipate as Jaskier started garnering reproachful and annoyed looks. Biting his lip he tried to still his rapidly bouncing leg to keep his heel from drumming staccato against the floor. It didn't work as well as Jaskier hoped but the bouncing did turn into anxious vibrating.

"We can leave," Geralt startled him with the quiet words.

"Nah, let's not. Our turn is the next one after theirs," Jaskier replied just as quietly, nodding his head slightly towards the couple sitting at the other end of the room.

Geralt gave him an unconvinced look but did stay put with a small hum.

"Witcher and Jaskier," a call rang out after what felt like an eternity and the clerk pointed at a now open door.

If walking into the room without gluing himself to Geralt's back had been hard, having to take a seat next to him felt impossible as the alderman kept his attention on him. Apparently the man didn't want to even look at the Witcher more than absolutely necessary.

Asshole.

"What do you want?" the alderman asked impatiently, not moving his eyes away from Jaskier.

"Do you have work?" Geralt went straight to the point.

"For your kind?" the alderman sneered.

Definitely an asshole.

Jaskier couldn't help but break in cold sweat as the man pointedly refused to even glance at Geralt and kept staring at him instead. Jaskier had to purposefully press his soles hard against the floor so he wouldn't start bouncing them. His fingers twitched to fidget with the necklace. He stayed absolutely still, barely breathing.

"Yes. My kind."

The alderman gave a scoff and drummed his fingers against his desk for a while, seemingly contemplating.

Jaskier wanted to run.

He was still being stared at.

"There's been unease in the Western fields. Farmers are starting to avoid them, too scared to go work there. Claiming the grain bows under nonexistent winds and a withered old woman been spotted dancing in blinding sunlight," the alderman finally glanced at Geralt. Briefly.

"A noonwraith," the Witcher said. "Any deaths?"

"No."

While it didn't show on Geralt's face, Jaskier knew he was pleased by it. Being able to take care of a monster before it had started killing was rare. As the negotiation for the price started, Jaskier let himself stop paying attention to the conversation. The alderman's eyes were on him again, making Jaskier's skin crawl as the man steadfastly avoided looking at the Witcher.

"I won't pay more than that to an unnatural mutant," The alderman spat, making Jaskier jolt back to present.

"Bloody hell. What a fucking bigot," Jaskier thought, deeply offended for Geralt's sake.

"Excuse me?" the alderman snapped outraged, making Jaskier realize he had spoken out loud.

"I- I didn't mean to… to say that. I'm sorry," Jaskier back pedaled quickly, blood draining from his cheeks. "You're entitled to your opinions, as ignorant and repugnant as they may be."

Oh, fuck.

That was even worse.

So much worse.

"How dare you?" the alderman bellowed, standing up with enough force to make his chair clatter to the floor. "Get out before I'll have you arrested, bard!"

Jaskier would like nothing more than get out.

He was frozen in place.

Marden's face was twisted in fury.

Jaskier knew he was seconds away from getting beaten.

The chair might even have broken.

Just one loose leg would be enough to make things easier for the alderman.

For Marden.

And more painful for him.

_"Bruises bloom and die like flowers, gone without a trace."_

"Do anything and you'll regret it," Geralt snarled at the alderman, moving in between them.

"Get out and don't come back without a proof of the wraith being dealt with," Jaskier could only see Geralt's armor clad back but the alderman sounded scared under the indignant yelling. "And the bard better not return at all or I'll find a reason to have him thrown in the jail!"

It was hard to believe nothing more was happening as Geralt ushered him away when Jaskier could feel the pain blossoming in the places Marden had beaten him.

Was beating him?

_"How dare you? How dare you be damaged?"_

Jaskier's back hurt.

His bruised ribs were having hard time drawing air in.

Each step he took drove porcelain deeper into his sole.

"-skier?"

The flimsy towel was miraculously clinging to his hips.

"Jask-"

_"Is this it? Is this all you're worth? Damaged goods with a gorgeous face as its only saving grace?"_

Jaskier hadn't even noticed Marden's rings before they made contact with his face.

"Jaskier?"

Black spots were dancing around his peripheral vision as the king strangled him.

_"Are you trying to get the Witcher killed after all?"_

"Jaskier?"

Jaskier knew he'd be killed.

After Marden would grow bored of all the entertainment he could force from him.

Jaskier could only too well picture what the king had in mind.

"You're safe."

Jaskier could have laughed at the notion if he hadn't already been crying.

He hadn't noticed starting.

"Jaskier, look at me. Look around."

He didn't want to. Didn't want to see the beautiful rooms. Definitely didn't want to see his captor.

"Jaskier, it's just me. Please."

That last word made Jaskier lift his head. Hearing it in such a familiar voice was jarring. He wasn't sure why it felt important.

He wasn't sure of anything.

Even the bone deep knowledge that he was about to be hurt and raped and killed was starting to fracture.

The golden eyes watching him were so worried and gentle. Yet furious, deadly, anger flickered deep in them at the same time.

It didn't terrify Jaskier.

He knew those eyes.

"...Ge…ralt…"

"Good, Jaskier, good. Focus on me," Geralt said quietly and emphatically. "You're safe. Completely safe. The bastard has been dead for almost a month. It's safe. No one will hurt you, Jaskier."

"Geralt. Geralt," Jaskier sobbed, latching on to the name to drag himself back to reality. Minute by painful minute he managed to get closer to the elusive answer of what was happening.

"Hi… Did I have a flashback?" Jaskier asked resigned as soon as he was able to piece things together.

"Seemed like it," Geralt agreed. "How are you feeling?"

"Wretched. I prefer having a panic attack, no matter how bad, over this. I don't want to relive things." Jaskier didn't bother trying to downplay it. Looking around the alley they were in, he continued confused. "How did we get here?"

"Walked. Can you get up?" Geralt answered simply, drawing Jaskier's attention to the fact that he was on the dirty ground.

Giving a valiant effort Jaskier tried to gather his legs underneath himself but after a minute of trying he gave up. He wouldn't be walking just yet. But at least he wasn't slumped anymore.

"We'll just wait here then until you're ready to go," the Witcher said as if he wasn't disappointed in him.

He should be.

"...Or… you could give me a lift…" Jaskier mumbled, looking just left of Geralt to avoid eye contact.

"A what?"

"You could give me a piggyback ride to the inn?" Jaskier blushed in embarrassment. "It's a stupid idea, I know. Just forget it."

"Can you handle that much physical contact, Jaskier?" Geralt frowned at him. "I wouldn't mind doing it."

"You…? What now?" Jaskier asked bewildered.

"Wouldn't mind."

"I don't know. It was mostly just a joke," Jaskier confessed. "But… I trust you'll let me go the moment I ask you to. And not place your hands anywhere above my knees."

"Of course. Want to try?" Geralt nodded, eyes searching for signs of discomfort.

Those were a plenty. Jaskier felt like a fucking bundle of discomfort.

"Yeah. Let's see if this works."

It was awkward flailing as they tried to find a way to touch as little as possible during a full contact activity and make sure Jaskier wouldn't somehow manage to stab himself with the Witcher's sheathed swords.

"You good?" Geralt asked after standing up, forearms under Jaskier's knees.

"So far," Jaskier answered honestly, tightening his grip on Geralt's shoulders.

It was a blessing Geralt was ridiculously strong. It didn't matter that he was leaning slightly away to lessen the physical contact. The awkward weight distribution wouldn't be a problem. Or that he wasn't that much shorter than the Witcher. It was fine. As long as Jaskier avoided thinking about how he was straddling Geralt's back.

"Move, my mighty steed," Jaskier exclaimed, patting Geralt's shoulder in encouragement to start walking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 60th (WTF?!? I'll never get over how out of hand this has gotten. In the best way.) chapter turns out to be the longest one so far!
> 
> Also, happy midsummer everyone! Dunno if it's a big thing in where ever you guys are but over here it is.


	61. Chapter 61

Geralt was beyond surprised Jaskier lasted few minutes before asking to be let down. The bard didn't even crumble to the ground the moment he was left to bear his own insubstantial weight. He did stagger and lean heavily on the nearby wall but stayed upright.

Geralt could feel one of the knots in his chest loosen a bit.

"Jaskier?"

"I'm good," the bard's voice wasn't very convincing. "Spot anywhere quiet we could sit for a while?"

At least he wasn't pretending to be completely fine.

"Think you can manage there?" Geralt asked after a quick survey of the area, pointing out one of the benches circling a statue of some kind. "Not quiet but there's nothing better."

Jaskier took a moment to contemplate before nodding. "It's fine. Better than going to an alley and sit in the dirt."

Making absolutely sure Jaskier was safely following and no one was getting too close, Geralt made his way to the bench.

"Just breath for a while, Jaskier," he advised, noticing the faint tremors running through the bard. "Just breath. You're okay."

"...Yeah. Yeah," Jaskier nodded. "I'm just… Well. You know."

"Hmmm," Geralt both did and didn't know.

After a while Geralt could hear Jaskier's heart return to normal rhythm and the slight hitch in his breathing disappear. He didn't do anything until Jaskier had stayed calm for several minutes.

"Jaskier, will you be alright alone for a minute? I'd like to go buy us something to drink," Geralt asked, pointing at one of the stalls around. "You'd be able to see me the whole time."

"Sure," Jaskier's voice was perfectly neutral.

"You can come along too," Geralt added. He'd personally prefer Jaskier to stay put and off his shaking legs but it wasn't his call.

"I'll stay."

"You sure?"

"Yes, Geralt. Go spend our hard won money."

With a shake of his head Geralt stood up and headed towards the stall. It was almost a fight not to constantly look back at Jaskier and check the bard was still fine. He might have lost a couple of times. Jaskier was sitting in the same spot safe and sound each time, staring back at him. In fact, Geralt could have sworn the bard hadn't moved an inch the whole time it had taken him to run the small errand.

But Jaskier's heart was racing again when Geralt sat back down next to him.

"Here," Geralt said, offering a bottle.

"Geralt… Not to be rude but I haven't been drinking lately if you haven't noticed," Jaskier pointed out, looking at the green bottle askance. "And I doubt right now is a good time to restart."

"It's not wine," Geralt huffed, opening the bottle himself since the bard wasn't making any moves to grab it. After taking a swig he offered it to Jaskier again.

This time Jaskier accepted it and took a small sip. Lowering the bottle he blinked in surprise. "Rhubarb?"

Geralt nodded as he unveiled the tiny box he had bought alongside the juice and presented that too to the bard.

"And strawberries?" Jaskier sounded delighted. "Oh my, Geralt! Are you trying to woo me with an impromptu picnic?"

"Didn't realize you need it," Geralt said, shaking the box gently to encourage Jaskier to start eating.

"Everyone needs wooing once in a while, dear Witcher," Jaskier declared before popping a strawberry into his mouth. "And you are doing a stellar job of it currently."

Geralt didn't bother keeping a small smile from forming. Jaskier seemed to be genuinely enjoying himself for a change.

"He smiles!" Jaskier teased. "Maybe that juice is spiked after all."

Geralt gave Jaskier an unamused look while taking another swig. His smile was unchanged when he lowered the bottle, watching as the bard hovered a hand above the box.

Suddenly a strawberry was so close to his lips Geralt could almost taste it.

"Say _Aaaaah,_ " Jaskier ordered, letting the strawberry gently poke Geralt's lower lip before retreating.

Not knowing what else to do Geralt opened his mouth, feeling incredibly silly. Then Jaskier threw the strawberry into it and Geralt felt even sillier than before as he reflexively snapped his jaw shut.

The bard gave a bright peal of laughter and Geralt decided it was more than worth it.

"Your _face,_ Geralt!" Jaskier managed to get out. "I wish I was a painter, then I could show you."

_"The Witcher so very scary,_   
_Tries to stay grim just to be contrary,_   
_But throw him a strawberry,_   
_You'll find his smile is extraordinary,"_

Jaskier hummed as soon as he had calmed down enough to do so.

Geralt was absolutely sure his heart skipped a beat. He had never thought one of Jaskier's ridiculous improvised ditties could floor him. Yet here he was, staring at the bard as if he had just sang the most beautiful song in existence.

"...Jaskier…" Geralt breathed, full of wonder.

"What?" Jaskier asked confused.

"You… Nothing," Geralt shook his head, deciding not to draw attention to the fact that Jaskier hadn't sang his customary little songs since the feast.

"What? Geralt? Tell me," Jaskier prodded. "I'm what?"

"A menace," Geralt informed him, crossing his arms. That's what the bard was.

"So I've been told. But it wasn't what you were going to say," Jaskier continued, leaning towards Geralt.

"Figure it out by yourself," Geralt stated. "I know an actual thought crosses your mind once in a while."

"Fine," the bard huffed, taking the bottle from Geralt's hand to take a swig. "Keep your secrets then."

Geralt wasn't sure if he was relieved or dismayed Jaskier gave up so quickly. The bard had a sheer talent of being irritatingly persistent. A talent he hadn't used in what felt like ages.

"Stop sulking and eat your strawberries," Geralt said, nudging the box closer to Jaskier.

Jaskier was perfectly capable of both sulking and eating his strawberries. Except he didn't feel like sulking. And couldn't finish the strawberries.

But the principle still stood.

"We should continue on," Jaskier said reluctantly as everything going on around them was getting too much. It had been a lovely little reprieve. "I think I can walk."

Geralt gave him a silent once over before standing up with a nod.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to start insulting the alderman," Jaskier murmured as he walked a hair's breadth away from the Witcher. "Did I screw up the possibility of a better contract? I kind of stopped listening."

"No. Bastard wouldn't pay a crown more no matter what. You have nothing to apologize for," Geralt turned slightly to look at him. "But you didn't have to do that."

"I can't stand people talking about you like that. You deserve better, Geralt. So much better," Jaskier said emphatically.

"I admit I didn't plan on it but the asshole had it coming. I'll just add _angry people with power over me accompanied by a clattering chair_ to my trigger list for flashbacks now," he continued with badly feigned levity, starting to fidget with the beads.

"The chair was part of it?"

"Mmmm. Let's not talk about it."

"Jaskier," Geralt bit out. "Don't shut me out."

"Not now. Not here," Jaskier shook his head, doing his best to shove threatening images away. "Later. I'll try, okay?"

"Okay," Geralt agreed before stopping walking. "Do you want me to carry you again?"

He really should have known Geralt would notice that he had started lagging despite his best efforts. It was ridiculous how exhausted having a flashback made him feel, even worse than panic attacks. The lingering phantom aches didn't help either, especially the nonexistent porcelain pieces in his left sole. Jaskier had to consciously keep himself from limping. They couldn't reach the inn soon enough.

"It'd be nice but no. I kind of reached my limit earlier," Jaskier told Geralt. "Let's just go before I fall asleep on my feet."

Or fall in general.

Jaskier didn't feel particularly steady.

"Where will you take lovely lady Roach today?" Jaskier asked out of curiosity and need for distraction as they continued walking.

"The Western fields. I want to get the lay of the land before dealing with the wraith tomorrow," Geralt informed him.

"How will you give proof of having vanquished it? It's not like you can drag a specter's corpse to the alderman," Jaskier inquired. "And I doubt the man would realize what its remains are even if you dumped them on his head."

"Hmmm."

"Maybe a witness? One of the farmers perhaps?"

"Hmmm."

"Such a conversationalist," Jaskier sighed theatrically and gave a wave to Zofia who was behind the counter as they passed her. "Too bad it can't be me."

"You wouldn't be coming in any case," Geralt stated, opening the door to their room and letting Jaskier enter first.

It was a bitter reminder to Jaskier of how weak he was, not fit to even act as a witness when anyone should do. Flopping down on the bed, Jaskier stared at the ceiling and just listened to Geralt getting comfortable.

"A chair?" Geralt asked after taking a seat on the bed with Jaskier's permission.

Should have known the Witcher would latch on to that detail and promise.

"A chair," Jaskier nodded, ignoring a brief urge to pretend to not know what Geralt was talking about. "Pretty sure that's what pushed me into a flashback instead of panicking. Such a silly thing, right?"

"No. Nothing silly about it," Geralt said resolutely.

"Says the man who didn't get spooked by a clattering chair," Jaskier sighed, throwing an arm over his eyes. "I didn't even know that was a thing for me. Wasn't the first time one has fallen close by."

"A combination then."

"I guess."

"Why? What about it reminded you of Marden, Jaskier?" Geralt's voice sounded carefully controlled.

Jaskier was sure his face would match if he only would look at the Witcher.

He didn't.

Bruises long healed gave a throb.

"An angry man in power. Mad at me specifically," Jaskier shrugged, knowing Geralt had already deduced that part. He continued before the Witcher could comment on it. "I absolutely wrecked the room Marden locked me in that night. There was a chair among the furniture. It broke."

Jaskier could describe it to a carpenter and commission a perfect copy of the chair. It was strange how clearly he remembered the design.

"Marden didn't care about the room much. Kept focusing on me. Ba-bathing me," Jaskier wondered if the air was getting thinner. "Scars enraged him. Preferred bruises."

"Jaskier…"

"A loose chair leg leaves good ones," Jaskier almost choked on the words as the memory of the impacts made him flinch.

"Shhh… Shhh… You're alright, Jaskier," Geralt's soothing made Jaskier realize he had curled up and started crying at some point. "It's over, you're safe."

He wasn't sure why the uncharacteristic gentleness was making his sobs turn to wails. Jaskier wasn't sure why he was suddenly reacting like this to the beating in the first place. It had been just physical pain. Simple and straightforward.

Nothing was simple.

The whole word was a lie.

Another wail escaped between Jaskier's lips and palms pressed against them.

He was being too loud in his cries.

Without thinking Jaskier bit down on his left hand to stifle any more sounds leaving him.

"Jaskier!" Geralt bellowed and wrenched the hand away from his teeth.

"Let! Go!" Jaskier tugged at the grip as his wits caught up with his actions.

One more tug and the Witcher let him take his hand back, golden eyes hard and angry. Jaskier tried to will his tears away by sheer determination as he cradled his wrist and stared back at Geralt.

The tears didn't stop.

"What the fuck, Jaskier?" Geralt snarled. "What the fuck was that?"

"A mistake?" Jaskier tried with a breaking voice. "I didn't think."

"Didn't think. You sure as _fuck_ didn't think. Were you trying to bite your thumb off, you bastard? Try to draw blood from your palm?"

"No! I didn't mean to hurt myself," Jaskier said, focusing on his hand.

He was relieved to find that unlike Geralt's accusation, there were only pink indentations instead of gaping wounds. Not that he wanted any marks left from an idiotic reflex. His wrist gave a small twinge as he worked his hand. Playing tug-of-war with a Witcher using one's body parts didn't seem to be the brightest idea.

"I was just trying to keep sounds from escaping," Jaskier muttered, wiping at the tears. "It was just a reflex."

"Is that supposed to be reassuring? Hearing your reflex is to hurt yourself?" Geralt almost spat.

"I didn't hurt myself Geralt. Look," Jaskier said slowly, realizing the Witcher was afraid. For him. Because of him. "Shouldn't even bruise."

Jaskier did his best to swallow a spike of panic down as Geralt snatched his hand again without asking for permission. This was safe. It was just Geralt. It was safe.

It didn't feel safe.

But it was bearable.

And Geralt needed this.

So Jaskier let the Witcher trace the fading teeth marks and examine the palm for any damage. He was counting his breaths and staring unblinkingly at Geralt when the Witcher suddenly froze.

And dropped Jaskier's hand as if burned.

"Jaskier…" Geralt sounded strangled.

"Yes?"

"I shouldn't have."

"Probably not. But it's okay, Geralt," Jaskier whispered, drawing his hand back. "I'm okay. You're okay."

Geralt kept silently studying him with a look of regret, not moving an inch. Jaskier guessed he wasn't the only one thinking about the last time they had landed themselves into a similar situation.

"Can I have a hug?" he asked quietly, knowing Geralt wouldn't be making the next step.

"Of course. But are you sure?" the Witcher frowned.

"Yes," Jaskier said plainly.

He wasn't looking forward to being touched at the moment but he was completely sure about doing so despite it. He needed to show Geralt, to himself, this was nothing like the river incident. Nothing was fracturing, nothing was breaking. Winding his arms lightly around Geralt's shoulders, Jaskier waited until the Witcher returned the gesture even more carefully.

Staying still for a few breaths, Jaskier murmured softly into Geralt's ear. "I'm sorry I keep worrying you. I don't mean to do so."

Geralt gave a small hum and parted his arms the second Jaskier leaned back to break the hug.

"I really do wish I had more impulse control, Geralt," Jaskier said, shoulders bowing. "Never been my strong suit but this is disturbing to me too. Just… Believe me when I say that I do not mean to harm myself."

"Hmm."

At least it wasn't a completely disbelieving sound.

"I guess you should go take care of Roach and check out the fields," Jaskier didn't want Geralt to leave.

"And what would you do?" the Witcher asked, clearly reading his tone.

"Sleep, probably. Hopefully," Jaskier said. "I feel like a puff of wind could make me keel over."

Geralt eyed him for a little while before nodding. "I'll leave once you're sleeping."

This time Jaskier didn't have it in him to protest about it. He just got under the covers, too exhausted to care what it said about him that he needed Geralt to stay with him to have even a chance of falling asleep.

"Thanks," Jaskier murmured, closing his tired eyes.

"Can I touch your cheek?" Geralt asked softly, making Jaskier snap his eyes open to stare at the Witcher.

"No."

"Okay."

"Don't touch me," Jaskier repeated, burrowing deeper under the blanket.

"I won't."

Giving a sigh of relief, Jaskier closed his eyes again. "Thank you."

"Hmmm. Go to sleep."

"A chair. A fucking chair leg, Roach. That's what caused those bruises and welts on Jaskier. Fucking miracle there weren't any broken bones," Geralt ground out as he turned the mare around after assessing the fields. "I want to kill the sick bastard all over again. You'd help, wouldn't you? Stomp him under your hooves? I know you've grown fond of the bard."

Roach gave an agitated huff.

"Who the fuck uses a chair leg to beat someone?" Geralt grumbled venomously.

"It's not like I forgot Jaskier got also physically abused. I'm not ever going to forget any of this. But he hadn't shown that many signs of also being haunted by it, not before today. Guess I've been kind of ignoring it, too focused on the molestation. It's the biggest part of his trauma after all," he continued just as bitterly. "Roach, do you think the beating is part of why he's so against me physically protecting him? Does it bring forth memories, seeing any sort of violence, even a threat of it?"

"I fucking hate not knowing if I'm about to trigger him by doing something," Geralt gave Roach's neck a pat as she snorted again, reacting to her rider's mood. "I know, I know it's not his fault. Still fucking frustrating. I don't want to keep accidentally doing it."

"You know, Roach, Brajan offered to talk with me about these things. What the hell made the man think I want to have a heart-to-heart is beyond me. And even if I wanted to ask about some things, which I don't, I can't. I'm not going to share Jaskier's experience. It's not my decision whether or not to tell the innkeeper."

"But Brajan is right. I don't want to let Jaskier hear the things that piss me off or are hard to adjust to. The bard would just interpret them as personal criticism," Geralt finished as the town came within sight, not wanting to be spotted talking to his horse.

After leading Roach back into her stall, Geralt started to give her a throughout rub down. It was easy to get lost in the repetitive motions, giving him time to let most of his frustration simmer down. It wouldn't do any good to stomp into their room agitated. Jaskier would only end up mirroring his mood. After bringing Roach more hay, Geralt headed back to the inn.

The bard didn't give any response to the quiet knocking, so Geralt opened the door and stepped into their room, only to to be surprised to find that Jaskier really was asleep.

Walking silently to the bedside, Geralt observed the sleeping man with a gentle expression, not even noticing the way the tense lines of his face had softened. Not able to stop himself, Geralt straightened the blankets to cover Jaskier properly. It was clear the bard had been tossing restlessly, tangling and throwing them off.

It was good to see Jaskier had stayed asleep without him in the room.

Even if it probably was because of how badly the flashback and the following …conversation… had drained the bard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sing for us Jaskier, sing. And please sleep well.


	62. Chapter 62

It was nearing midday as Jaskier stared at his open songbook, wondering if Geralt had already found the noonwraith.

With a defeated exhale Jaskier closed the book resigned to the fact that he wouldn't get any more work done, no matter how woefully little he had managed. He was feeling too tired, too detached, too dirty, to focus. There was a strange itch in the back of his mind, one that he couldn't grasp to examine. Instead it just kept him constantly on edge.

Walking to the window, Jaskier observed the people moving outside. It'd be nice to be able to just walk around without a care or fear. Having done such a thing felt like it had happened to someone else.

Now doing so was just wishful thinking.

Jaskier wanted his life back.

Realizing he had started to scratch his forearm over his clothes instead of fidgeting with the beads, Jaskier decided he needed to do something about the filthy feeling before it'd get worse. No phantom touches yet, hopefully it'd stay like that if he acted now instead of waiting.

Swallowing nervously Jaskier poked his head out of the room to scan the hallway. Seeing it empty he started to slowly head down the stairs, heart hammering against his ribs and cold sweat beading on his forehead. The lunch crowd in the tavern made him almost bolt back to their room. Leaning against the wall of the staircase out of the eye sight Jaskier took several deep breaths, hoping futilely that Geralt was with him.

After getting marginally more used to the noises he finally managed to make his legs work. Walking carefully along the wall to have little safety Jaskier halted again as he spotted an unfamiliar young woman behind the bar. Not wanting to give up now he continued to the counter, each step making him tense up more.

"Can I help you?" the woman asked as Jaskier couldn't find his words immediately, only standing silently in front of the bar.

"Could I have a washbasin brought to my room?" Jaskier requested quietly.

"Of course. Which room are you staying in?" after nodding at his answer she continued with a tentative voice. "Are you Jaskier? Dad mentioned you when he asked if it was alright to share some of my experiences. I'm Olga."

"Oh," there was indeed clear family resemblance now that Jaskier looked. "I- Yeah. I'm Jaskier."

"Nice to meet you," Olga's intonation made it sound more like a question than a statement.

"Same," Jaskier said, realizing they both had started to fiddle with their beaded jewelry.

In a strange way it was reassuring that apparently it wasn't just him feeling nervous.

There was an awkward pause before Olga nodded again. "Right, the wash basin. Do you want soap? A towel?"

"A towel please."

"I'll have it brought to your room soon," Olga gave him a tiny smile, picking up the coins from the counter.

Thanking her Jaskier started to hastily retreat, needing to get away from people and the noises of the tavern. He felt like he had ran a marathon instead of just going downstairs and back to their room with the way his heart was racing. Didn't take long before there was knocking on the door and Brajan's voice calling for him. Jaskier couldn't help but be grateful that the innkeeper had decided to fulfill the order himself instead of sending someone else.

"Hello, Jaskier," Brajan greeted him as he stepped into the room, carrying the warm water and followed by a teenager.

"Hi," Jaskier glanced at him before his eyes were involuntarily drawn back to the girl placing the basin on the table.

"Thanks, Ella. Go ahead and tell Olga she's free to go. You can man the counter for a while, right?" Brajan told his daughter while pouring water into the washbasin. As she left, the innkeeper focused on Jaskier. "How are you?"

"I'm okay," Jaskier started to fidget with the beads as Brajan looked at him with concerned eyes.

"That's good to hear. If you need anything, or just want some company, come find me. I won't mind you hanging around while I'm working. Neither will Zofia or any of the girls," Brajan said with a kind smile.

There the innkeeper went again, inviting him into the outskirts of his life. Jaskier was starting to get less and less surprised with each offer even though it still was baffling and hard to fathom why.

"Thank you."

"I mean it, Jaskier," Brajan assured him. "But I'll leave you alone now so the water doesn't get cold. See you later."

After triple checking the door was locked again and that there wasn't even the slightest sliver of glass peeking out from behind the curtains, Jaskier started to unfasten his doublet with shaking fingers, eyes darting to the door.

It was safe. He was safe. He was. Had to be.

This was ridiculous.

It wasn't as if undressing would suddenly summon people lusting for him.

Jaskier knew that perfectly well.

Didn't help much with the cold fear creeping into his bones.

Taking a few deep breaths to center himself, Jaskier yanked his chemise off. Staring at the door in trepidation, he let it fall on top of the doublet on the chair.

No one tried to get in.

With a shaky exhale Jaskier dipped the washcloth in the warm water before lathering it with his fragrant soap. Maybe if he scrubbed well enough he could wash away the memories of Marden's hands on him.

It was far too easy to locate the spot the king had grabbed him in the garden. It was strange there wasn't a bruise or blemish mapping the area when the exact angle and placement on his bicep was branded into his mind. Biting his lip Jaskier ran the cloth over his arm with ferocious determination, willing the memory to start fading while the scratchy fabric left his skin pink. With a frustrated noise Jaskier switched to washing between his shoulder blades, wanting to forget how it was the first place Marden had touched him.

Wanting to forget how much of him the king's hands had covered.

The way the washcloth left his skin tender from the overzealous scrubbing was much better than the ever threatening echoes. Not even trying to get naked, Jaskier pulled a clean chemise on before removing his trousers and undergarments with another suspicious glance at the door. Finishing up washing with haste, Jaskier dropped the cloth in the water and watched it submerge as he hovered a hand over his lower back.

Bracing himself against the table and taking an unsteady inhale, Jaskier splayed his hand over the scars on his back. He couldn't suppress a flinch and an instinctive flash of terror, momentarily sure he'd be hit from the behind.

Nothing happened.

With a strangled sob Jaskier pressed down harder before letting his fingers rake over the scars, careful to make it as different from a caress as he could without hurting himself.

It was his back, his scars, his body.

And he was fucking sick and tired of some dead bastard holding it hostage.

Letting his nails travel lower Jaskier scratched them over his ass and all the way down to his knee, following his outer thigh. He was vaguely aware of what a strange sight he had to be, crying and wearing only a shirt, fingernails leaving faint, almost nonexistent scratches on his naked lower body.

Didn't matter.

There wasn't anyone looking.

There wasn't.

_Wasn't._

He was alone.

He was.

_Was._

Drawing air in between his silent cries, Jaskier trailed his fingers upward along his inner thigh, ignoring the way he started shaking. Instead he turned his hand to lightly cup himself. The action made Jaskier want to shrivel up and disappear, mind conjuring images of a very different hand touching him.

Within a minute that felt like years he was again fully dressed and pressing himself into a corner, needing to eliminate even the slightest chance of someone approaching without his notice.

"I need one of you to come with me," Geralt told a group of farmers who were working on the very edge of the Western fields.

All he got was averted eyes and quiet mumbles, just as predicted.

"I'm here to kill the noonwraith. I need a witness."

More mutters and shuffling feet. Geralt wondered how badly it'd go if he simply pulled one of them on Roach and continued riding.

"I- I'll come…" a young sandy haired man volunteered, looking like it was the last thing he wanted to do.

Giving a curt nod, Geralt gestured him to come along as he nudged Roach into walking. The man started following, acting like he was walking to his doom. The shoulder and back claps other farmers solemnly gave him did nothing to lessen the impression.

"I'm Mikolaj," the man introduced himself after they had traveled about ten minutes in silence. As if floodgates had opened, he started to nervously talk. "I have a wife and a newborn baby. Lots of nieces and nephews too. And my parents-"

"Why are you telling me this?" Geralt grumbled annoyed.

"So you'll know people depend on me," Mikolaj gulped.

"You're not a bait," Geralt snorted. "You really are just a witness. Blame the alderman"

"Ohh," Mikolaj made a relieved sound and slightly relaxed his posture.

Geralt was pleased to learn the man wasn't a chatterbox as long as he knew he wasn't being used to lure monsters out. It didn't take much longer to reach the edge of the area where the noonwraith had been appearing. Searching the fields for signs, Geralt spotted a trail of grain moving independently from the wind.

"There," he informed Mikolaj, dismounted Roach and reached for one of his potions. "Don't follow me any closer."

"Absolutely. Not if you paid me."

Right. Some people actually had self-preservation instincts unlike a certain bard on a good day.

Placing a now empty vial back into the saddlebag, Geralt heard a scared gasp and smelled the sour stench of fear from the farmer as Mikolaj caught sight of the visible effects.

"Stay put," Geralt grunted once more out of habit, too used to a companion who did anything but that.

Mikolaj didn't move an inch.

Staying on high alert, Geralt walked towards the specter silver sword in hand and ready to draw _Yrden_ on the ground. So far the noonwraith didn't seem interested in him, continuing its circular dancing and staying incorporeal. If it would mind its business for just a little while longer-

No. There it came.

As if bending before a gale the grain rippled as the noonwraith charged at him, taking a form only once it was almost upon him. Dodging away from its clawing fingers, Geralt slashed his sword only to be met with thin air. The bastard had turned incorporeal again. This was why he had wanted to be left alone for few more seconds to have time to place at least one or two _Yrden_ signs on the ground to force it stay corporeal.

As it was, Geralt followed the movements of the grain to track the wraith, readying for its next lunge and bidding his opportunity to trace the few needed lines for the sign on the ground.

The noonwraith formed again, all withered skin and wispy hair bleached white under the burning sun where it hovered over the ground, white frock barely brushing the grain. Surging forward, Geralt executed a series of slashes and thrusts that sunk into the specter before it vanished with a screech. Making use of the briefest pause, the Witcher quickly drew the sign on the ground to ensure there'd be at least one spot where it would be forced to form.

Now he'd just need to hold his ground.

The grain was rustling again and Geralt lifted his sword just as the wraith rematerialized, this time unwillingly if the look on its face was anything to go by. Giving another shriek as the silver cut it, the noonwraith lifted its hand to grasp a sunbeam. With a curse Geralt threw a quick _Quen_ sign to shield himself from any physical attack while having to close his eyes and look away or be blinded. The second the light didn't sear his eyes even behind the closed lids, Geralt launched an attack on the surprised specter and scored another deep cut.

Moving out of the sword range, the noonwraith seemed to blur as it created three identical copies of itself and Geralt could feel his life force being drained as he was surrounded. With a heartfelt curse and quick strikes the Witcher destroyed the mirror images, disrupting the spell. Enraged, the wraith descended on him, forcing Geralt to spin around and parry as its withered fingers sought to tear his throat out. Few more steps and Geralt managed to lead the specter back within the _Yrden_.

The noonwraith's brief hesitation as it couldn't turn incorporeal as planned was all the Witcher needed.

Geralt took a moment to survey the area in case there was more activity while catching his breath. That fucking life-draining ability. Always just as nasty thing to get caught in. Breaths evened out and satisfied that there were no other wraiths, Geralt headed back to Roach and Mikolaj with heavy steps.

The farmer was pale and wide eyed, standing frozen. Not even stopping Roach from grazing the still growing green grain. Only as Geralt started to lead the mare back to the place he had destroyed the specter did Mikolaj shake off his shock.

"What are you doing? Shouldn't we go to the alderman?" he asked, trailing after the Witcher.

"Alchemical ingredients," Geralt informed him, starting to salvage what little the noonwraith had left behind before disappearing for good.

Mikolaj fell silent, only the sound of nervous shifting betraying his impatience to go. It didn't take long for Geralt to finish harvesting the remains and straighten up again.

"Let's go."

"Why are you still following me?" Geralt grumbled as Mikolaj kept walking with him even after the unpleasant visit to the alderman.

"I'm already in town instead of working so I want to have lunch with my wife. It just seems like we're heading to the same direction," Mikolaj answered, sounding much more at ease now that he was free to leave any time.

"Hmmm."

Geralt couldn't stop feeling like he was trailed by the farmer as the man came along all the way to the inn. Only as he headed to the stable to care for Roach did Mikolaj separate, walking straight in with a goodbye. At least the man wasn't waiting for him or present at all when Geralt too finally entered the inn.

He was pleased to hear an indistinct reply from Jaskier to his knocks before unlocking their door. Until he stepped in to see the bard crammed into a corner, hiding his face behind arms resting on his curled up knees. Aching for a relaxing bath and some sleep, Geralt hurried to kneel in front of Jaskier.

"Jaskier, look at me. What happened?" Geralt asked, masking his exhaustion away from his voice.

There was no answer so he continued as soothingly as he could. "You're safe. Talk to me, Jaskier."

"Can't touch," came the faint reply.

"I won't," Geralt promised. "Just tell me what's going on."

"No, me. Can't touch myself. Even my own skin contact makes me afraid. Tried," Jaskier explained in clipped sentences, not lifting his face. "Was sure I'd be beaten when I touched the scars. Couldn't help imagining it was Marden's hands."

The ache for rest changed into an ache for Jaskier. The depth of the bard's trauma kept taking him by surprise. Geralt knew it was bad. But each new detail just kept hammering the knowledge deeper.

"Thank you for telling me," Geralt said, not sure what else to do.

This _was_ big. Jaskier being able to share his feelings, share what was wrong. Not shutting him out, unable or unwilling to verbalize.

Too bad Geralt didn't know how to help.

"Geralt, I…" Jaskier trailed off, his red and puffy eyes from crying narrowing and brow knitting into a frown as he finally looked up.

"Are you hurt?" he asked urgently, surprising Geralt.

"No."

"Don't lie to me," Jaskier chided. "You don't look good. Where are you hurt?"

"I'm not," Geralt protested. "The wraith didn't wound me."

"What did it do then?"

Trust a bard to catch on to the slight vagueness of wording.

"Life-draining spell," noticing Jaskier's whole body language turning alarmed Geralt continued. "I drank Full Moon before the fight, had extra vitality."

"Go to sleep."

Geralt couldn't keep a snort in at the sudden role reversal on the issue.

"I'm fine."

"Indulge me? Please?" Jaskier entreated with wide cornflower blue eyes. "Take the bed too."

Fucking bard. Exploiting weakness.

With a disgruntled huff Geralt rose up to remove his gear and armor before walking to the bed. He had wanted to have a nap anyway. It wasn't Jaskier changing his mind.

It wasn't.

Slipping under the covers Geralt gave the bard a tired glare, trying to telepathically send the message. Jaskier just moved to rest his elbows on the mattress, studying him with concern.

"Better?" the bard asked softly.

Geralt grunted, unwilling to agree more than that. It felt good to be able to rest his tired muscles.

"Geralt, would you… would you mind if I laid down with you?" Jaskier whispered, averting his eyes.

"Of course you can," Geralt said immediately, a small thrilling feeling making itself know.

Geralt knew it wasn't a proposition of any kind and even if the bard would try something, he wouldn't go along with it. Absolutely not. But Jaskier was showing trust, showing that he did want to be close. It made his heart lighter and kindled a pleasant warmth in it.

With slow and hesitant movements Jaskier climbed in, stretching out on top of the blankets. Leaving them as a barrier between them. Geralt was glad it gave Jaskier enough sense of security to join him at all. The bard was gently gazing at him, looking as exhausted as Geralt felt. It was good to see how a little more of the tension bled away from Jaskier as Geralt carefully tucked all of his limbs under the covers, away from where he could touch him.

"Let's sleep," Geralt said with a small smile.

Jaskier knew Geralt could hear the way his heart was anxiously beating too fast. It was silly to feel this nervous, and not in the fun way, about laying on the same bed with the Witcher, especially as there were the covers separating them completely.

But being able to be like this was also filling his heart with love. It'd be so easy to close the distance between them and press a soft kiss on Geralt's lips. Jaskier wanted to. Even as the idea caused a cold shiver of dread.

Not yet.

One day.

Besides, Geralt would hate it if he tried such a thing while faking to fully want it.

It was reassuring.

"Thank you, Geralt," Jaskier murmured with sincerity.

"Hmmm?"

"For waiting. For not pushing. For helping. For too many things to list."

"I'll never force you into anything, Jaskier," Geralt almost growled. "Never."

"I know. It makes me love you even more if that's possible," Jaskier said, trying to project all of his feelings for Geralt into his words.

The Witcher opened his mouth briefly as if to say something before closing it again, staying silent instead.

Jaskier hoped it wasn't only wishful thinking that Geralt had tried to get those famous three words out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haven't played the games so there's a good chance that Geralt found some weird subspecies of a noonwraith. I did read the wiki but...


	63. Chapter 63

"I met Olga today," Jaskier said in between slow spoonfuls of soup. "She was manning the counter when I ordered the washbasin."

"Hmmm?"

"We didn't actually talk, though. Just introduced ourselves."

"Hmmm."

"You sure are chatty," Jaskier huffed good-naturedly.

"Congratulations on meeting her." Geralt said with completely flat intonation.

"Thank you. Just wanted to mention it. It was the most interesting thing to happen while you were hunting, after all," driving himself into a panic attack didn't count, Jaskier firmly decided.

At Geralt's pointed look Jaskier realized he had again stopped eating, just swirling the spoon around the small bowl. Giving just as pointed look back at the Witcher, Jaskier lifted the spoon to his lips.

There was no way he'd faint in the middle of a performance ever again.

"Oh, there she is," Jaskier nodded towards the backroom she stepped out of, carrying a baby and followed by an unfamiliar man.

"That's the farmer," Geralt stated as he turned slightly to look.

"What?"

"The witness," the Witcher clarified. "Must be her husband."

"Interesting," out of all possible people, Geralt had managed to nab one who had a tenuous connection to them. "He didn't mention it? I'm sure Olga has told him about us."

"No. Might be why he volunteered."

That made sense. Not everyone wanted to see a Witcher in action. Those fools, not knowing what they were missing.

"I'm finished," Jaskier declared, fighting down a wave of shame as he pushed the now empty bowl slightly away from himself.

Jaskier knew he needed Geralt's help to get back to eating normally. He really, really, needed someone else to make sure he wouldn't forget or give up when it turned hard. But it was that exact dependency that felt so shameful, so embarrassing, so childish. A grown man unable to take care of the most basic of needs, having to be supervised, that's what he was.

Not wanting to give Geralt even a chance to comment, Jaskier rose and picked up his lute. "Time to earn our keep."

The Witcher did look at the bowl and back to him but only nodded, apparently satisfied. As he should be. It hadn't been an easy feat. Taking a bracing inhale, Jaskier departed from Geralt's side.

Four steps.

Maybe he should be happy to be able to leave the immediate vicinity of the Witcher at all after today.

He wasn't.

He needed to do better than this.

Jaskier took one more small step, feeling as if he had tried to walk in hip deep swamp.

Geralt's eyes were almost a physical sensation with the intensity the Witcher was staring at him during the first songs. After a while he did seem to find whatever confirmation he had been seeking as Jaskier more felt than saw him look away.

Noticing Olga and her husband observing him too, Jaskier wished he could flash them a friendly smile. But even the faked performer's smile to slip into incase his genuine one faltered was out of reach. A smile so carefully woven together to act as a shield against anything from jeers to crude propositions thrown at him. It was a blessing that his performances hadn't elicited such reactions so far.

Jaskier knew he wouldn't be able to shrug them off like he used to.

It had been wonderful, having the ability to ignore all sorts of hurtful actions and words be it during performing or on a more personal level. Having the feelings of insecurity and not being enough surface and eat at him only occasionally in the dark hours of the night, possible to push down to wherever they resided rest of the time.

Now that rare wall around his heart was absolutely demolished, every little thing able to stab through him and burrow in.

Making it almost impossible to distinguish what was the truth and which were just the bleeding wounds crying out.

Jaskier quickly lead the audience to join in when he reached the next chorus, needing to swallow the slowly constricting feeling in his throat away so he could get through rest of the songs.

That he could do.

Jaskier was glad it was a quiet night, less people milling around than usually. Even though it did mean slimmer profit for him. But right now he was glad to exchange those coins for not having to endure as many strangers. He just wished to go back to their room. Letting his eyes wander around the tavern as there was a pause in strangers happy to talk with him, to him if Jaskier was honest, he noticed Olga and her husband talking and sneaking glances at their table before the husband rose up. He started to head towards them like Jaskier had guessed would happen.

"Hello. I'm Mikolaj, Olga's husband," the farmer introduced himself after stopping out of arm reach with steady voice even though he was giving Geralt slightly wary looks.

He didn't seem disappointed at all getting only a silent nod in reply.

"Olga is too nervous to come over herself but she asked me to tell you that you have a wonderful voice," Mikolaj said with a smile, clearly comfortable with being used as a messenger by his wife. "And that she's glad Brajan struck a deal with a bard like you. She's happy the inn has had an uptick in patrons. Olga might not actually work here but she's still invested in her family's business."

"I too thought your performance was really good," Mikolaj added as he placed a couple of coins on the table.

"Thank you," Jaskier said on reflex, prompted by the money. Having regained his voice, he continued. "Could you tell her I'm thankful for the advice she let Brajan share?"

"Sure thing," Mikolaj agreed easily.

It was kind of strange asking someone else deliver his words when Olga was sitting only a few tables away.

"Have a good night, Jaskier and …Geralt?" Mikolaj obviously wasn't sure if he should call the Witcher by his name or not.

"You and your family too," Jaskier gave his own well wishes and watched as Mikolaj returned to his table.

"Ready to go upstairs?" Geralt asked, saying something for the first time in a while.

"Yeah. Let's go."

Jaskier knew he should be more precise in his wishes. He was indeed in their room. He also hadn't slept a wink and the night would turn into early morning soon. The sky was showing the first changes in the colors through the window, heralding the sunrise. Even Geralt's quiet and steady breathing hadn't been enough to let him drift off. Instead Jaskier had just laid on the bed, doing his best to keep still and not disturb him.

It was a relief when the Witcher woke at the sunrise. Giving up on the last shreds of hope for sleep, Jaskier sat up.

"...Morning," he greeted quietly, mindful of the early hour.

"Did you sleep?" Geralt asked, forgoing the greeting all together.

Jaskier gave a deep and frustrated sigh. "No."

The muscles in the Witcher's jaw twitched, belying his displeasure. Jaskier agreed with the sentiment.

"Lay down and try again."

"Geralt, that's the only thing I was doing the whole night. I think it's pretty safe to say that I'm not going to fall asleep," Jaskier rebutted with incredulous expression. "No matter how much I'd love that to happen."

Geralt gave an incomprehensible grumble as he rolled up the bedding before starting his morning routines. Jaskier let himself drift as he absently observed Geralt going through his exercises, playing with the bead necklace.

"Want to go see Roach?" Geralt asked, startling Jaskier back to present.

The sky had brightened and Geralt was wearing different clothes.

"Uh, sure," Jaskier blinked at the Witcher, feeling off-balance.

"I'll wait for you outside the door," Geralt stated, leaving to give him a chance to change his attire.

With heavy limbs Jaskier got up to blankly look at the saddlebag holding his clothes. His thoughts felt sticky with the lack of sleep. It took him a brief moment to remember what he was supposed to be doing. Another moment to remember he also needed boots.

It was a relief Geralt was exactly where he had said he'd be when Jaskier opened the door. He had a vague feeling he might get lost without the Witcher to follow.

"Are you alright?" Geralt frowned, seeking eye contact.

"Yeah. Just tired," Jaskier mumbled, unable to keep looking in Geralt's golden eyes. They were too bright.

"Hmmm."

It was nice that Geralt didn't keep asking more questions. It was much easier to just walk behind the Witcher, not having to focus on anything in particular. Roach butting her head against him in a greeting was nice too. Jaskier let his forehead fall against the mare's warm neck in return, breathing the familiar smell in.

"Here."

Jaskier was startled again by Geralt's voice, making him reflexively grab a handful of Roach's mane.

"Take care of her," Geralt said, depositing a brush in Jaskier's hands.

Jaskier stared at it for a minute before starting the repetitive motion of brushing Roach until her coat turned sleek and shiny.

"You don't have to start again," Geralt informed him in a tense voice, making Jaskier realize he had indeed begun another round.

"Oh."

"Breakfast?" Geralt asked, already preparing to leave Roach to her fresh hay.

Jaskier wasn't sure when the Witcher had gone to get it.

"Sure."

It was as if like they teleported back to the inn. Jaskier could have sworn they had been in the stable yet when he blinked they were almost at the counter. Bleary-eyed Ella was behind it and Jaskier wondered if she had done something to be saddled with the early shift or if it just was her turn.

He wondered why both she and Geralt were looking at him.

It probably wasn't anything important since the next moment Geralt was leading him to take a seat at one of the tables.

"Jaskier? What's going on?" Geralt drew his attention with the way he sounded so serious. "Talk to me."

"Exhausted. Didn't sleep at all," Jaskier said. His words felt as sticky as his thoughts.

"Hmmm. Feel up to finding out if there's a formula for the sleeping potions to be found?"

"Sure."

"Really?" Geralt sounded highly doubtful.

"No," Jaskier whispered confused. "No. I can't… I can't be around so many people. I don't…"

"Jaskier, we don't have to," Geralt cut him off. "We can stay in. But you need to eat a little more before we'll do anything."

It made Jaskier aware he was holding a half eaten slice of bread. Huh. He took a bite of it, dismayed it tasted like sawdust. It was slow going but he did manage to finish the slice, making Geralt's face lose some of the tension.

The Witcher's eyes were too vibrant to look at.

Everything else was so muted and grey.

"Can we go upstairs?" Jaskier asked quietly. He didn't want to stay in the tavern.

It was too spacious.

There were other people despite the early hour.

It didn't feel safe.

In response Geralt got up, grabbed rest of the bread to bring along, and gestured him to follow. It felt like an instant transportation again. Suddenly they just were in their room.

It shouldn't be like this.

"Something is wrong," Jaskier mumbled, collapsing back on the bed. "With me. I feel weird."

"Jaskier? Weird how?" Geralt was suddenly right by his side.

"I don't know. Floaty yet heavy. Exhausted. Things feel like snapshots. Everything is grey. I think I'm going to start crying any second now," Jaskier knew his words didn't make much sense. Geralt's puzzled expression only confirmed it.

"Try sleeping again," Geralt offered. "It could be that."

"Mmmm," Jaskier wasn't sure it was just the sleepless night. But it definitely wasn't helping so he closed his eyes.

"You still have your boots on."

"Oh," with herculean effort Jaskier moved just enough to tug them off before slumping onto the bed again.

It couldn't be just the complete lack of sleep, Geralt admitted as he kept watching Jaskier lay unmoving on the bed. The bard hadn't so much as changed his pose in hours even though he was clearly still awake. It was starting to remind him of how Jaskier had been around the first week. Listless and unresponsive.

Oh. Oh, fuck.

It'd be a month tomorrow.

This probably really was a deep plunge in depression.

Fuck.

At least Jaskier had realized by himself that something wasn't right.

Not that it seemed to be making a difference.

Running hands through his hair, Geralt let a quiet curse slip free. He didn't know what he was supposed to do.

He didn't.

"Jaskier? Will you be alright alone for a bit? I'll go tell Brajan you're too ill to perform tonight," Geralt asked. There was no way Jaskier would be able to sing today even if it wasn't even midday yet.

"Mmm."

It was a reply at least.

"Make any loud sound and I'll hear you from downstairs. I'll come back the second it happens, okay?" it felt like a bad idea to leave the room.

"Mm."

"Jaskier. I need an actual answer."

"...Yeah…"

More of a breath than a whisper. Geralt would take it.

"I'll try to be fast," he said with one last look at the bard before heading out.

There was a slim chance Jaskier would do anything or even move while he was away. Right now it was almost reassuring, making it easier to leave since he was quite sure Jaskier didn't have enough energy to do something stupid.

Hopefully.

Ella was still manning the bar when Geralt reached it. At least she looked awake this time.

"Where's Brajan?" he asked, trying to keep all of the frustrated bite out of his tone. There was no reason to take it out on the girl.

"I don't know," Ella shrugged before raising her voice and looking past the Witcher. "Anja, do you know where dad is?"

Geralt was starting to be sure the inn was completely a family business with no outside help as only a slightly older looking girl stopped cleaning the tables. He hadn't been paying much attention but all the workers did appear to hold a family resemblance.

"Home, last I saw. Giving Hanna a dressing down about respecting curfews and not oversleeping," Anja answered rather gleefully. "She was with Jakub again."

"Guess she's taking care of the early morning shift tomorrow. Lucky you," Ella grinned back at her sister before focusing on Geralt again. "So, yeah, home. You can poke your head in and call for him."

It was obvious Brajan had had a talk about them and their situation with his whole family. The nervous looks too were almost completely gone by now. Geralt wondered if he should ask Brajan what the names of his daughters were since he still didn't have them all. It'd probably be polite at this point.

The whole situation was beyond bizarre.

Nodding his thanks Geralt walked into the backroom to do exactly as advised. Brajan was still clearly talking to Hanna as he opened the door only to hear very calmly yet emphatically enunciated words about proper conduct while courting and how it shouldn't interfere with her work.

"Brajan?" Geralt called out, causing the lecture to stop and footsteps head towards him. A young woman, barely more than a teenager, hurried past him with whispered thanks, Brajan following her at a more sedate pace.

"Geralt. What can I do for you?" the innkeeper asked with a smile and a final fond look at his fleeing daughter.

Brajan's smile had morphed into a concerned frown by the time Geralt managed to get the words out. "I don't know how to help Jaskier."

"Oh. Come in," Brajan seemed surprised by the admission as he gestured Geralt to follow him to the family kitchen.

"Did something happen? He looked alright last I saw him," Brajan said with sincere worry on his face as he placed drinks for both of them on the table.

"He's depressed," Geralt ground out, glad the innkeeper stayed silent to give him time to continue at his own pace. "Badly. Won't move. Stopped talking. Completely listless."

"Do you know if there might have been a specific trigger?" Brajan inquired.

"Didn't sleep. And it'll be a month tomorrow since- since," Geralt scowled at his drink.

"Hmmm, I've heard that reaching specific dates can have adverse effects. It's not something I've personally had to deal with since Olga hasn't gone through trauma. But depression is depression regardless of the cause. Maybe. I don't know," Brajan mused, looking deep in thought. "Has this happened before?"

Geralt gave a terse nod. "At the first week mark."

"How did it go then?"

Geralt felt like the absolute worst person in existence when he thought back to his actions. "Not good. Forced him to take care of himself even briefly by dumping water on him until he did so. Made him travel the next day. He ended up jumping into the river."

"You- He- What?!" Brajan exclaimed shocked, losing composure for the first time that Geralt had seen.

Exactly.

It was shameful how little he had understood of what was happening or how to deal with it.

"Why? Geralt, why?"

Geralt couldn't do anything but avert his eyes.

After taking a moment to gather himself Brajan continued seriously. "Is Jaskier suicidal?"

"He says he's not."

"You don't believe him?"

"I don't know. He keeps up self-destructive habits. He's been able to explain them and says they're involuntary, something he doesn't actually want to do," Geralt admitted, uncomfortable with sharing. "What if he ends up doing something worse without thinking?"

"Thank you for telling me, Geralt. That must be a heavy burden to carry without support," Brajan said, voice and expression gentle. "I think you should trust him. Just keep an eye on any changes."

Geralt wasn't sure why the words made his heart clench painfully before feeling slightly lighter.

"The first thing to do is not pour water on him. Seriously, what were you thinking?" Brajan reprimanded him with heavy disapproval.

"Of fucking course I won't," Geralt grumbled.

"Try to get him walk around a bit even if he's not feeling ready to leave the room. Just getting off the bed for a moment will do good. Food and fluids. Prompt him to wash. It should make him feel better about himself," Brajan offered.

"No."

"No?"

"No washing," that sounded like a disaster in making.

"Okay. You know better if something will be harmful," Brajan agreed easily but a frown made itself known again. "I'll lend the weighted blanket too. You should think about getting one yourself."

"Already commissioned," Geralt informed the innkeeper. "Jaskier won't be performing today. Probably not for a couple of days."

"Naturally," Brajan nodded.

"Here. For tonight and tomorrow," Geralt said, fishing the coins out. "I will pay for the food too."

"You don't have to."

"No, I do. It'll make Jaskier more comfortable, not feeling like he's taking advantage of your hospitality," Geralt stated resolutely.

"You wouldn't be," Brajan sighed and quickly added seeing Geralt's expression. "But I understand. No reason to make him stress about it."

As Geralt got up to leave, the innkeeper continued talking. "Geralt, I'm glad you came to me. Please, keep doing it. I don't know if you have noticed it yet but trying to handle all this by yourself will eventually end up burning you out."

"Hmmm."

He wasn't ready to admit that he had started to feel it.

Jaskier was still on the bed, not having moved an inch when Geralt entered their room. It was both a relief and deeply worrying.

"Jaskier?"

There was no answer, only the scent of salt.

Walking to kneel close to the bard, Geralt tilted his head to get a glimpse of Jaskier's face.

"You'll be alright," he said gently, wanting to wipe the slow tears away from the bard's cheeks.

That earned him a tiny head shake.

"You will," Geralt repeated with feeling. "It's just the first month anniversary being tomorrow making you feel like this. You'll get through this too. And I'll help."

"Mm."

"Can you get up? To walk around for a bit. You can lay down again afterwards," Geralt tried, hoping Jaskier would comply.

He got another small head shake.

Geralt wondered if he should press the issue more but decided to let it go for now. Jaskier looked too miserable for him to do so.

"Can I join you?" he asked instead.

A tiny nod.

But big enough to lift Geralt's spirits slightly.

"Thank you," Geralt said sincerely as this time he settled on top of the covers, laying on his back.

They stayed like that in silence for a while, Geralt careful not to touch and Jaskier taking shuddery breaths until the bard slowly turned around to face him, still not opening his eyes. Jaskier moved slightly closer as if blindly seeking Geralt's warmth before halting.

"You can touch me. Any way you want to," Geralt said softly.

Jaskier opened his eyes to see what he was doing as he reached out to tangle his hands into Geralt's shirt and pulled himself just close enough to rest his forehead against the Witcher's side. Not saying anything Jaskier just closed his eyes again, staying still.

It took all of Geralt's willpower not to card his hand through Jaskier's hair gently and soothingly, knowing the effect would be the opposite.

He just wanted the bard to feel better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof.
> 
> Btw, from oldest to youngest Brajan's daughters are:
> 
> Olga  
> Lena  
> Hanna  
> Anja  
> Ella


	64. Chapter 64

Geralt had to get away.

It was the next afternoon and Jaskier wasn't any better. He had realistically known it wouldn't happen on the day of the one-month anniversary but seeing the bard like this was incredibly hard. Having had to make sure Jaskier did basically anything was even harder.

He needed a break before he'd do something similar to how he had acted in the past.

It'd only worsen the situation.

"Jaskier, will you be alright if I step out for a while?" Geralt asked, hoping Jaskier would agree.

"Mhm."

Not much of an answer but it was an assenting hum.

"I'll be back, okay?"

Closing the door behind himself, Geralt took the easiest breath the whole day. Jaskier would be fine alone. Relatively. Safe at least.

The tavern was almost empty as he stomped his way to the bar, passing a young woman mopping the floor. Had to be yet another one of the daughters.

"I need ale," Geralt stated without preamble or greeting.

"And someone to talk to," Brajan added, not making it into a question as he fulfilled the order.

"Lena, take care of the bar. Hanna will do the cleaning," he continued, wiping his hands on a towel and headed towards the family quarters.

Geralt was rather impressed the innkeeper just expected him to follow.

He did.

Brajan had barely had time to send Hanna to do the cleaning and take a seat when Geralt opened his mouth. "I want to tear the sick fuck apart limb by limb. Killed him too quickly."

The admission made Brajan blanch, looking frightened.

Right, killing. Not in an innkeeper's work description.

"Even dead the fucking bastard keeps tormenting Jaskier. I want to hurt him right back," Geralt growled. "He was a worse monster than those I hunt."

"Uhhh… Right," the innkeeper said hesitantly.

"I fucking failed to get Jaskier out before he was hurt. Can't believe I let a small stab wound distract me."

"You got stabbed?!" Brajan exclaimed, sounding far too worried.

Ignoring the outburst Geralt continued. "Should have done something the moment I saw Jaskier act strangely. Definitely shouldn't have waited until the morning to try again."

Geralt didn't know why he was suddenly telling Brajan all this. He wasn't even drunk.

He wanted to be.

Very much so.

"I could have prevented this shit show. I fucking failed. Now Jaskier keeps suffering. And I don't know how to help," Geralt finished, words strangled, grip on his tankard tight enough to make splinters appear.

"Geralt, to me it sounds like you tried your best," Brajan said calmly. "You got wounded, anyone would be incapacitated or at least severely hindered by it."

"Witchers are different. We're made to be able to endure such things and keep going," Geralt ground out.

"Now, I'm far from expert in Witcher physiology but I'm still quite certain not even you are meant to have new holes stabbed into you," Brajan deadpanned.

"I've had far worse," Geralt scoffed.

He wasn't sure what the innkeeper's face was doing. But it did settle on concern.

"Geralt… That's… Just because it wasn't the worst wound of your life doesn't mean you should have been able to shrug it off," Brajan said seriously. "It wasn't your fault Jaskier was hurt."

"I need to keep him safe."

"You are. Constantly. I've seen you, Geralt," Brajan assured. "You're doing so much for him, helping him, protecting him. Caring. That's what's important. Not what ifs and should haves."

It was as if some of the constant pressure was draining away as Brajan kept talking. Geralt hadn't even considered that someone giving affirmation he was doing at least something right could help.

Hadn't known he needed it.

"Is there anything I can do?" Brajan asked as Geralt kept silent.

"Pour me another ale," Geralt said, making the innkeeper chuckle.

"Sure thing. Let's go take care of it."

Jaskier didn't want to be awake. He just wanted to sleep his life away. Or at least the next few days. Just long enough to not feel only hollow, defeated, and exhausted.

A month of this fucking hell. A month and he still wasn't over it. A month of constant overreacting. A month of making Geralt shoulder everything. A fucking month of uselessness.

How long would it take him to fit all the shattered pieces of himself back together if a month hadn't been nearly enough?

How many of those pieces had broken beyond repair?

Right now it felt like each and every one.

Breathing was all he had energy for. Just getting through the hours that stretched into eternity.

"Jaskier?"

Ah. Geralt was back.

"Can you sit up?"

No.

There was a heavy sigh as Jaskier couldn't find it in himself to answer.

"Can I join you?" Geralt sounded so hopeful.

Jaskier gave a small nod, not opening his tired eyes.

The mattress shifted as the Witcher laid down on top of the blankets. Geralt was surely mapping out his face with his gaze. Jaskier wondered what he would find. Nothing good probably.

"You can touch if you want to, Jaskier."

Reaching blindly out with arms aching with fatigue Jaskier hoped to find Geralt's hands. He should request it.

Words were too hard.

"Want to hold hands?" Geralt guessed.

Jaskier gave another nod. Dear, dear Witcher, being able to read him. Even when Jaskier himself was floundering.

Large warm hands found his, intertwining their fingers together.

There was exactly one positive thing going on and it was Jaskier's willingness to accept physical comfort. Geralt tried to cling to that thought as evening turned into night and Jaskier stayed just as unresponsive. If not for the small answers and occasionally doing as prompted, Geralt would have started to fear the bard had become catatonic. But no, that at least wasn't happening.

As if to prove the point Jaskier dragged himself into something resembling sitting to drink water before slumping back down bonelessly.

"Sleep well, Jaskier," Geralt wished quietly, knowing it wouldn't happen.

"Morning," Geralt greeted on reflex, not expecting to be acknowledged.

"Mhmm."

Well. That was a reply. He'd take it.

"Feeling better?"

This time there wasn't any indication of an answer, making Geralt stifle a vexed sigh.

"It's okay. You just need some more time," Geralt said instead, doing his best to keep his own negative thoughts from showing in his tone. "You'll be alright, Jaskier. I'll go get us breakfast."

"Jaskier, I need to go give Roach exercise. She's been inside for two days," Geralt informed the bard, both reluctant and eager to leave. "I'll be gone for a couple of hours."

"Mmm."

"I was thinking of asking Brajan to check on you while I'm gone. Is that fine with you?" Geralt continued, hoping he'd get another answer.

After a while there was a hesitant nod.

"Great. See you soon then," Geralt said relieved, rising up from the mattress where he had been sitting to be close to Jaskier. He needed a longer break than any he had been taking so far.

Badly.

Knowing Jaskier wouldn't have to be alone for all of it made things easier. Geralt was almost certain the innkeeper would agree to at least quickly swing by to see if everything was alright.

Feeling guilty about how glad he was to leave, Geralt headed downstairs.

"If you're looking for Brajan, he's right outside the back," Zofia told him while pouring drinks for a customer, noticing him walking towards the bar.

With a nod of acknowledgement he changed his direction.

Brajan was unloading barrels from a cart with another man when Geralt rounded the corner. Ruddy cheeked and sweating, the innkeeper puffed out a greeting and carefully lowered the barrel he had been moving next to the others on the ground. Deciding to make himself useful, Geralt walked to the cart and easily lifted one of the remaining ones.

"That's handy," Brajan said gratefully, wiping sweat off his brow.

"I'm leaving to give Roach exercise. Mind checking on Jaskier at some point while I'm gone?" Geralt asked as he swiftly took care of unloading the rest too.

"She's my horse," he added seeing the innkeeper's puzzled expression. "It'll take me a couple of hours."

"See you next week, Hans," Brajan bid farewell as the other man left with a wave of his hand after hopping on his now empty horse-drawn cart. Focusing on Geralt again he nodded. "I can do that. It's probably for the best too. For both of you. You can't keep ignoring yourself, Geralt."

"Thanks," Geralt steadfastly ignored the last part.

"You need time away from all this. Burning yourself out won't help anyone," Brajan said resolutely. "I'll be glad to visit Jaskier. Go have fun."

Now, that was a sentiment Geralt didn't hear often.

But riding Roach for pleasure would probably fall underneath it.

"Hmmm."

"Shoo," the innkeeper prompted Geralt to leave with a smile before looking at the barrels with a low grumble under his breath. "Where are the girls when I need them?"

Watching Brajan head towards the door, Geralt opened his mouth without thinking. "I'll help you move them."

"You don't have to. I have four very capable if currently absent daughters running somewhere around here to help me," Brajan turned around surprised.

"Already here. Where do these go?" Geralt shrugged and picked up a barrel.

"Jaskier is doing worse again, Roach. And I'm fucking selfish for being angry about it. Not at him. Well… Maybe a little. Just thought we were past this point," Geralt confessed to the mare as they trotted along a forest trail. "Makes me useless. Nothing I can do about Jaskier's own mind dragging him down. I can only watch and wait."

"I took Brajan up on his offer to talk. It's… not as bad as I thought."

Roach took a few skipping steps to avoid roots. Geralt decided the spring in her gait was a sign of the mare being happy for his decision.

"Helpful if I'm honest. Good advice. And I do feel a little lighter. It's strange," Geralt continued. "He's not judgemental at all. Got shook up when I mentioned killing the bastard. But didn't say anything about it. No spiel how all life is valuable. He's not how I thought in the beginning."

"Can't believe I trust him to be around Jaskier," Geralt shook his head. "Feel actually better for it when I'm not there, having someone keeping an eye on him. Knowing there's someone Jaskier can seek out if needed. Not that the bard can do it currently."

"This whole situation is fucking bullshit," Geralt growled, making Roach snort back at him.

"Good to know you agree."

Slowing Roach down to walk, he fully focused on the forest around him and let his senses sharpen, not having to block anything out to handle all the stimulus of human settlements. After continuing to walk for a minute Geralt dismounted and tied Roach to a tree out of eye sight from the trail.

"Wait here," he told the mare, patting her before drawing a dagger and walking deeper into the woods with silent steps.

Following the faint rustling of the underbrush, the Witcher carefully closed in on his prey. Finally within striking distance he pounced, throwing his dagger deep into the doe's head. After checking the animal really was dead, he hefted it over his shoulders and returned to Roach.

"Don't look at me like that," Geralt chided the mare as he lifted the doe onto Roach's back. "Carrying a deer is much more pleasant than carrying a monster. Be glad not having had to do so lately."

Roach stomped her front leg before settling down.

Getting on the mare again Geralt turned them around to head back to the inn. The ride really had allowed him to calm down and unwind a little.

He felt ready to face the bard again.

Unfamiliar knocking on the door startled Jaskier, making him tightly grip the weighted blanket he had burrowed under. Before he had time to start panicking Brajan's voice called out to him, asking for permission to come in.

Jaskier wanted to answer. He couldn't find the words.

"Jaskier? If you don't want me to enter, please say something," Brajan told him and after a pause continued. "I'm coming in now."

There was the sound of the door opening and closing, footsteps, something placed on the nightstand. A small thump as the innkeeper probably kneeled by the bed.

"Jaskier," came the gentle and quiet words. "How are you feeling?"

Hollow.

"Anything I can do?"

No.

Jaskier managed a small head shake. The effort left him even more tired.

"Could you sit up, please? I brought you tea and a honey bun. It's fresh from the oven too, Ella has been baking today."

It'd be delicious, Jaskier wagered. It sounded terrible.

"I know everything is hard right now," Brajan said calmly. "But eating something will make you feel better. Give you a bit more energy. You don't have to finish it all, it'll keep well."

Geralt would want him to eat and drink. With that thought Jaskier dragged himself to lean against the headboard, unable to meet the innkeeper's eyes.

"Here," Brajan said as he handed him a small tray holding the tea and bun.

It was a fight to keep lifting his hand to be able to nibble at the honey bun. It tasted like nothing. Lifting the mug was even harder with its weight. Jaskier didn't manage for long.

"Thank you," Brajan took the tray back and moved a chair closer to the bed. "Could you switch to the chair for a moment? I brought clean sheets. You'd be more comfortable if I re-made the bed."

It felt too draining. Even the idea.

"I could also bring a washbasin so you could freshen up."

Jaskier was sure he looked horrendous. Dried sweat on his forehead and tear tracks on his cheeks, greasy hair and the smell of someone who hadn't washed themselves in days.

"Can't," Jaskier mumbled almost inaudibly.

"Oh?"

"Can't," he repeated faintly. "It'd be him. Don't want flashback."

"It was only a suggestion. You don't have to, Jaskier," Brajan said. "But I still would like to change the sheets."

"Why am I like this?" Jaskier whispered, unable to swallow the question down as tears gathered in his eyes.

"You went through something terrible. Your mind, and body, are still healing," the innkeeper answered seriously. "You've only recently found more ways to cope. It'll take time to learn how to use them."

"And if you ever want to share what happened, I'll be here," Brajan offered, sounding as sincere as he ever had. "I'd be glad to listen, to try lifting some of the weight off you."

"He threatened to kill Geralt, cut his head off if I didn't obey. Make me watch before killing me too. He wasn't bluffing. Geralt got stabbed. Throat almost sliced. I could only watch," Jaskier started crying in earnest, not sure why he was suddenly telling Brajan. He couldn't stop talking. "I would have done anything he told me to. _Anything_. I would have let him do whatever he wanted to me without a fight. _Let him_ even rape me over and over again, faked enjoying it, faked loving it, would have begged for more, if it'd only keep Geralt alive. Didn't happen. He only beat me. Ba-bathed and watched. …Molested…"

Jaskier couldn't believe he had admitted that to the innkeeper when he hadn't been able to use the word even with Geralt. He had accepted it was what had been happening, had talked about it. But actually naming it out loud was different.

Jaskier felt like something was snapping inside of him.

Making him selfishly want someone else to carry everything.

For someone else to deal with it all.

He was just so fucking tired of doing it.

"Oh, Jaskier. You strong, foolish, man. There's nothing _only_ in that," Brajan chided him so gently it made Jaskier's heart hurt.

"It was about to get worse. Geralt saved me before it did," Jaskier protested between sobs.

"Just because it could have been worse doesn't mean it wasn't bad, doesn't mean you can't be hurt by it," Brajan told him resolutely, sounding so sure. "You have the right to feel as you do. Please don't be ashamed of yourself, of the way it's affecting you. No one should go through what you did."

Jaskier could only cry harder.

"You haven't talked with Geralt about what you were prepared to do, have you?" the innkeeper asked him quietly.

Jaskier just shook his head. He never wanted Geralt to know.

Never.

"I can understand why. That's not something you'd want to share with someone you lo- care about," Brajan sighed heavily.

"Love. I love him," Jaskier whispered, too tired to worry about what Brajan's reaction to the confirmation would be. "Have for years."

"I'm glad you two have reached an understanding," Brajan said before adding. "Forgive me if I've read you two wrong in case you're not actually in a relationship."

"We are."

"I'm happy for you."

"...Me too…" it was strange to realize there actually was something else too than emptiness in him.

"Jaskier? Could you move? I really do want to change those sheets," Brajan asked suddenly, disrupting the quiet that had fallen over them.

Jaskier couldn't help but give a wet and barely there chuckle at the abrupt topic change. The look on Brajan's face made it clear that his reaction was exactly what the innkeeper had hoped for.

Slowly and laboriously Jaskier moved to the waiting chair. It was a miracle, or maybe not, that Brajan waited patiently for him to manage it. Not hurrying or commenting on how long it took him to even stand up. Only stripping the bed and remaking it quickly and efficiently once he could.

"All done. I'll place the tray within your reach too. Try to finish eating, okay. And I could open the window if you want," Brajan said, holding the dirty sheets. "I have to go now but I'd like to visit again at some point if it's okay. Keep company for a little while whenever Geralt is out riding, at least."

Jaskier gave a nod, out of words again and too exhausted to even try. Little after Brajan had left, he finally managed to drift off to sleep.

"Uhhh… What are you doing with that?" Anja asked from behind the counter with a suspicious grimace as soon as Geralt stepped into the inn carrying the deer carcass.

"Trading it for our upkeep," Geralt stated.

"Oookay. You should talk with either mom or dad then," Anja said, gesturing him towards the backroom. "This feels way out of my jurisdiction. I've never had to accept a deer as a payment. Nice idea, though. I like venison."

"Hmmm."

Stepping into the kitchen, Geralt spotted Zofia and Ella busy with baking. It explained the sweet scents that had been drifting everywhere, even stronger than usual. Maybe he should buy something for Jaskier. It might tempt the bard into eating. Strawberries had worked.

"Hello. Is that a deer?" Zofia greeted him with a bemused expression as she noticed him standing in the doorway.

"How many nights can I get for it?" Geralt asked, stepping in and scanning the room for a place to deposit the carcass.

Cleaning her hands on the apron she wore, Zofia walked to inspect the doe. Geralt could almost see her calculating the value of the meat before her face softened.

"I think four would be fair. All meals for both of you included," she told him with a friendly smile.

"Deal," Geralt agreed, taken aback by the far too generous offer. Maybe he shouldn't be surprised that Brajan had married someone who was just as kind as him.

"If you want, you can take a few honey buns too," Zofia added, pointing at baskets full of them. "They always sell quickly so better do so now."

"Thanks," Geralt said, grabbing a couple of them before heading upstairs.

Like he had expected, there was no answer from Jaskier as he knocked on their door and the bard was still laying on the bed. It was obvious Brajan had visited with the way there was the scent of clean linen, open window, and a tray sitting on a nightstand. Half eaten bun and an empty tea cup on it were good signs too. Jaskier was even asleep instead of staring blankly at the wall or resting his eyes yet unable to drift off like he had been doing most of the time.

It made the weight in Geralt's chest lighter.

Moving silently to sit on the chair, Geralt stared at the bard, studying his features. Jaskier looked so unlike himself like this. No bluster or cocksure confidence, no incessant talking and dramatic gestures. No never-ending smiles and bright laughs.

But it was Jaskier.

And that was all that mattered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE BOYS???? OPENING UP????


	65. Chapter 65

Jaskier woke up stiff and sore, muscles protesting the far too lengthy inactivity. He stretched a little before rolling onto his belly and falling asleep again.

The next time he woke up with Geralt's name on his lips and tears in his eyes. Hours later Jaskier drifted off with the Witcher's hand in his.

On the third time Jaskier found it in himself to sit up and lean against the headboard.

"Jaskier?" Geralt asked, assessing him with a weary look.

"...Hi…" Jaskier greeted him quietly, unable to make his voice carry.

But it was enough for Geralt to perk up.

"Feeling better?"

"...Slightly."

"That's good. Here, drink," Geralt said, offering him water.

The mug was still heavier than it had any right to be. But the water felt good against his parched throat.

"Geralt?"

"Yes?"

Not sure what he meant to ask Jaskier just shrugged.

Geralt gave a sigh. "Can I join you?"

It was nice having Geralt sit next to him on the bed. The Witcher stayed too far away.

"Can I lean on you?" Jaskier asked, making eye contact for the first time in what felt like days.

It might have been.

At Geralt's very emphatic nod, Jaskier let himself fall sideways until the Witcher's broad shoulders and chest were practically the only things keeping him upright. Burying his face in the crook of Geralt's neck, Jaskier took a deep breath feeling safer.

Right now, he was home.

It wasn't Oxenfurt. It certainly wasn't Lettenhove. It was here.

With Geralt.

"I love you," Jaskier murmured into Geralt's shirt. "I'm so sorry I force you to go through all this."

He could both hear and feel the sharp and hissing inhale Geralt took.

The Witcher's voice was tightly controlled when he spoke. "Do not apologize for any of this. Don't. I keep telling you that. And stop ignoring my choice of staying with you by saying you're forcing me to do so. You're not. I simply want to be here. With you."

Jaskier could feel tears well up in his eyes. With shuddering breaths he managed to swallow them down before they had time to escape. For a man whose forte wasn't words, Geralt sure knew how to wield them.

"I… thank you…"

"Hmmm."

"You're my home, Geralt," Jaskier whispered, wanting to share his revelation.

If he hadn't been leaning on Geralt as he was, Jaskier wouldn't have been able to tell whether or not the words had any effect on the Witcher. But like this he could hear Geralt's heart start beating faster, the slightest hitch of surprise in his breaths, feel the tensing of his muscles. They were the only tells as Geralt stayed still and silent.

"You need to eat," Geralt said after a while, moving off the bed. "I'll go get something."

Jaskier would rather stay like they had been. But he knew there was no winning this song and dance even if he protested. And Geralt was right. He really did need to do that. Wanted to get over the unhealthy habit. The first real attempt might have been cut short but it was no reason for him not to try again.

"Mhmm," there went his words again.

Jaskier could see Geralt's jaw clench briefly at his hum.

"I'll be quick," Geralt said, stepping out of the room.

Apparently not quick enough since the next thing Jaskier knew was Geralt gently waking him up from where he had curled up on the bed. It took some effort to sit up again but the not-so-well hidden relief in Geralt's eyes made it worth it. He had to have scared the Witcher with the way he suddenly lost all capacity to function for… Jaskier wasn't sure for how long.

"What day is it?" Jaskier asked as he took the offered plate and utensils.

"Hmmm?"

"How many days did I lose?"

"Three. And it's afternoon now," Geralt informed Jaskier, not looking away for a second.

"Oh," no wonder Geralt was so tightly wound up. "That's not… good."

"No shit?" Geralt snorted.

"Didn't mean to do that," Jaskier said, stifling an apology.

"Obviously."

"Geralt, I… I told Brajan what happened," Jaskier confessed hesitantly, wishing he had a free hand to tangle into his beads. "And that we're together."

"You did?" Geralt asked, looking stunned. But not angry or even displeased.

"I'm sorry I didn't ask for your opinion," Jaskier mumbled, looking down at the plate resting on his lap.

"You can share what happened with anyone you want. I don't have a say in it. Don't even want to affect your decision," Geralt stated. "And I don't mind the innkeeper knowing about us. Pretty sure he had already guessed too."

"Thank you," Jaskier breathed relieved.

It was easier to manage eating a bit after that.

Taking the plate back Geralt gave him a once-over. "Walk around for a bit. You've been inactive for too long."

Jaskier wasn't sure if he could do it. His whole body was beyond heavy.

"Just do it, this is mental not physical."

Jaskier couldn't stop the feeling of shame. He was pretty sure Geralt didn't mean to hurt him but the words still stabbed straight through. It took far too long to heave his legs off the bed and even longer to stand up. Avoiding Geralt's eyes he slowly shuffled to the opposite wall where he rested his forehead against the wall, fighting against tears.

"Jaskier?" Geralt sounded concerned.

Unable to answer Jaskier pushed himself away from the wall, moving to curl up on the bed as quickly as he could. He couldn't stop the tears from escaping.

"What happened? You've managed to walk around the room before," Geralt asked, clearly oblivious to the effect of his words.

Jaskier didn't want to tell, to make the Witcher feel guilty and like he had to watch his words. Geralt was already trying to be so considerate. He was just overreacting, too tired to separate the meaning from delivery.

"...I'm okay…" Jaskier knew he wouldn't convince Geralt. But he didn't want to simply start ignoring the Witcher. "Just really tired. I'm going to sleep some more."

"Hmmm," Geralt did indeed sound as disbelieving as predicted.

"Go take care of Roach, Geralt," it'd be nice to be alone for a bit. Away from all attention, all judgment. If something would happen to him then it'd happen. Jaskier couldn't really find it in himself to care.

"Will you be alright?" he could practically hear the frown in the Witcher's voice.

"Yeah."

"I'll ask Brajan to swing by again, okay?"

It didn't sound much of a question.

"Mmm."

It took Jaskier longer to fall asleep than he had hoped. When he woke up there was an open window and a tray holding a slice of a strawberry pie and a pitcher full of water waiting for him. Apparently Brajan really had visited, just let him continue sleeping.

Pouring himself water Jaskier realized he had made a miscalculation on how well he'd fare alone. The longer he sat in silence, the closer the walls seemed to get and the faint sounds of the inn make him more and more anxious. Placing his mug on the nightstand, Jaskier burrowed back underneath the covers, hoping to shut everything out, get his breathing under control, and fall asleep.

Geralt's return roused Jaskier again and the prompting bordering on ordering was enough for him to be slightly more active. It wasn't a second too soon when Geralt finally relented and let him continue sleeping.

The colors had returned to the world when Jaskier woke up the next time.

"Geralt? I think this is starting to pass. I feel a little better," Jaskier said as a greeting, wanting to share the positive observation. "Not good. But better."

"That's great. Do you feel up to going downstairs to eat? Or go see Roach?" Geralt asked, some of the tense lines on his face smoothing away.

Jaskier guessed the Witcher was trying to gauge his current comfort level. But leaving the room still sounded out of reach.

"Can't," Jaskier mumbled, averting his eyes incase Geralt's face would fall in disappointment.

"We'll just stay in then. No need to hurry," there was no disapproval in the Witcher's tone.

"Thank you," gripped by a need to be close to Geralt, Jaskier got slowly up to walk to stand in front of him. "Can I have a hug?"

"Always," Geralt said, enveloping him into a soft hug.

Gripping the back of Geralt's shirt almost desperately, Jaskier let himself melt against the Witcher's broad chest. Breathing in the familiar scent and having the strong arms hold him gently were making him feel safe and loved.

Starting to fill up his empty heart and hollow soul.

"I love you so much," Jaskier said, words muffled with the way he was pressing his face against the crook of Geralt's neck. "Thank you for putting up with me through all this."

"Jaskier, I- You're more than worth everything," Geralt replied, tightening the hug but quickly opened his arms as Jaskier gave an alarmed protest.

Jaskier retreated immediately, afraid he'd start panicking otherwise over the brief moment of feeling being restricted. As it was, only his pulse picked up a notch and the next few breaths had a hitch in them.

"Sorry," he couldn't stop the apology from slipping out. He didn't want to stay this sensitive.

"Don't apologize," came the expected reply before Geralt continued in a voice as soft as his touch had been. "I'm glad you're learning to recognize your limits. To know when to retreat and what you need."

"I am?" Jaskier felt like he was still floundering cluelessly.

"Yes. You just did it. Have been doing so."

"Oh."

With tired legs Jaskier shuffled back to the bed and flopped bonelessly onto it, fighting the desire to close his eyes. He didn't want to sleep yet. He had been doing it far too much without getting any of the benefits.

"I should eat, shouldn't I?" Jaskier really didn't feel like doing it. But rationally he was well aware of needing to.

"You do. I'll go get us something," Geralt nodded clearly pleased and headed out.

Geralt hadn't expected Jaskier to show any interest in taking care of himself. Apparently the bard really was feeling better and not saying so just to comfort him.

Not that he needed comforting.

Although, having Jaskier acting affectionate was nice.

Reassuring.

Jaskier might be vocal and free with his declarations of love but Geralt couldn't help but want the physical closeness too. He didn't know how else to show his feelings for the bard. He couldn't wax poetics about romance, couldn't even tell Jaskier he loved him. He wanted to but the words refused to leave his lips. And words were almost the only option currently. No kisses, no caresses. He had scared the bard just by slightly tightening the hug. Geralt had never known he could want to touch someone this much.

Every little moment of it was precious.

It didn't take long to retrieve the food and return. Jaskier had curled under the weighted blanket again, playing nervously with the beaded necklace. It was good that their own commissioned blanket should be done by tomorrow. Although, there was only a very slight chance of Jaskier coming along to fetch it. To be honest, Geralt wasn't sure he'd even allow the bard to tag along.

"Sit up," Geralt said, waiting patiently for Jaskier to do so before handing the small bowl of porridge topped with honey and nuts to him.

"Try to finish it all, okay," he continued. "There's not a lot."

It had been decided long ago there was no reason for wasting food by serving normal sized meals to the bard. Privately Geralt thought it made Jaskier feel better about himself when he actually managed to finish eating everything on his plate. Maybe it felt an accomplishment or something. Sounded weird to him but anything that could lift Jaskier's mood even a little bit was worth it.

Starting on his own meal, Geralt kept half an eye on the bard to make sure that he really did eat. He did. Slowly and without any enthusiasm but that didn't matter in the least. Neither did the frequent breaks.

Jaskier really was trying.

So hard.

"Want your songbook?" Geralt offered as he took the now blessedly empty bowl from Jaskier's hands.

A shake of a head. "No. Can't concentrate."

"Hmmm," he should have guessed it'd be too much. "Anything else I can get you?"

"No thanks," Jaskier answered with an averted gaze. "I'll just go to sleep again. Sorry I'm not doing that much better."

"Don't apologize," Geralt bit out. It felt like they were stuck on a loop over the issue. "Improvement is improvement."

"Mhmm."

"Jaskier, will you be alright alone if I go for a ride?" Geralt asked, not completely sure if he should.

"You're free to do anything you want, Geralt. Don't worry about me. I'll be fine," Jaskier said.

He even sounded almost convincing. Geralt didn't believe it at all.

Geralt got up to don his armor and gear. "I'll be back in few hours."

"I know you will. Have fun and say hi to Roach for me," Jaskier said with a small waive before apparently losing all energy and laid down, wiggling under the covers.

"Hmmm. I'll ask Brajan to check on you again. See you later."

It definitely wasn't the most pleasant weather for a ride but it wasn't raining yet even though the smell was already in the air. Besides, both of them had been out in far worse conditions than heavy dark clouds racing on the sky pushed by strong wind so Geralt couldn't be bothered. Letting Roach to gallop to drain her energy he was even enjoying the wind in his hair like a certain bard would word it. It was nice to be outside and away from the town. Made it easier on his sharp senses.

Slowing Roach down to a trot, Geralt turned her towards the clearing. It had been far too long since he had done his swordplay exercises. Vesemir would definitely give him a lecture and put him through his paces if the old sword instructor knew how lax he had been lately.

Geralt couldn't find it in himself to be sorry.

The clearing was empty as he had predicted, people staying in or working. Unsaddling Roach, Geralt let the mare start grazing as he started warming up. Soon enough he was moving through the stances, clearing his mind of anything else, shoving all the worries away for now.

Focusing only on executing each movement perfectly.

The scent of rain had intensified by the time Geralt finished last of the stances. Sheathing his sword, he took a cursory look around out of habit. Not finding anything wrong, he walked to Roach's saddle and lifted it off the ground. The mare herself had wandered towards the opposite side of the clearing in search of tastier grass.

Geralt's steps loosened fluffy dandelion seeds that had been still clinging on despite the wind, making them both get stuck on his trousers and dance with the air currents. After saddling Roach, he bent down to gather still blooming dandelions and loosened his hair tie to wrap them into a bundle once there was enough. Satisfied, Geralt hopped on Roach and headed back towards the inn, hoping to outrun the impending rain.

Jaskier woke up to knocking on their door and the innkeeper's voice. This time he managed to answer. Too quietly for a human to hear through a wooden door apparently since Brajan kept waiting for a permission before announcing coming in.

"...Hi," Jaskier said, slowly sitting up.

"Hello, Jaskier. Glad to see you're doing better," Brajan greeted with a smile, handing him a tray holding tea and a custard tart.

Jaskier didn't know what to think of Brajan's developing new habit of feeding him sweet things.

"It's Lena's turn to bake. Not her forte but the one thing she knows how to make are those tarts. And she has truly mastered the recipe," the innkeeper told him while opening the window to a crack, letting cool air rush in.

"Thanks," Jaskier murmured, not sure how to act around him.

He hadn't seen the innkeeper since suddenly telling what had happened. There was absolutely no way Brajan would regard him like before, not after hearing it. There'd probably be revulsion on Brajan's face if he would only look at the innkeeper for more than a second. It might not have been the immediate reaction but Brajan had had time to think about it, to realize how disgusting he was.

"Mind if I stay for a while?" Brajan asked.

"You don't have to do that," there was no way he'd actually want to.

"No, I don't," the innkeeper agreed before continuing. "But I'd like to."

"Okay…"

"I will leave the moment you ask me to, Jaskier. I'm not going to force you to endure my presence," Brajan stated seriously. "I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

Jaskier bit into the tart to give himself time to think.

"You can stay," he finally said after swallowing.

Better to get this over with now. Better to know now if Brajan wanted him to leave the premises. At least the innkeeper would surely forbid him from performing anymore. Wouldn't want a bard like him interacting with his customers.

"Have I done something?" Brajan broke the silence, sounding puzzled.

Jaskier shook his head, realizing he was curling into himself. "...No. It's… I'm sorry I didn't tell earlier."

"Jaskier, you are under no obligation to tell me anything," Brajan rebutted sternly.

"I should have let you know what sort of a person you've been helping. Letting perform," Jaskier said, doing poor job of keeping his voice steady.

"I don't understand," the innkeeper sounded confused. "What do you mean by that?"

Wanting Brajan to stop pretending there was nothing fundamentally wrong with him, Jaskier started talking, words trembling and venomous. "I'm a plague, just sowing misery all around. Interfering with your business by creating disturbances. Making everyone else carry me, sapping their strength like a leech, bleeding them dry. I'm downright reprehensible. Probably a good thing I can't touch people. Can't taint anyone like that, can't cause Marden's touches to spread. Bad enough I'm doing it to Geralt, too afraid to lose him if I told. Even without all that I'm disgusting. What kind of a fucking sick person would welcome rape with open arms?"

"No, Jaskier, no. None of that is true, please believe me," Brajan said, words strangled. "You're none of those things."

"Don't lie to me," it came out as a sob as bitter tears started to run down Jaskier's cheeks. "I'm willfully doing it even now, shoveling all this shit on you."

"No. That's not what you're doing. You're working through things by voicing your thoughts, that's what's happening. And I have multiple times explicitly given permission to talk to me," Brajan said resolutely, voice still strained. "This is a heavy subject but I am glad you're taking me up on the offer."

It was impossible to look at the innkeeper. Jaskier didn't have the strength to face the condemnation Brajan would surely show despite the words.

"Jaskier, you're not tainted. Not dirty. Not filthy. Not spreading those sensations around. Nothing that was done to you could ever make that happen. You must be feeling terribly violated but it's not the same as those," the innkeeper continued. "Your trust was broken in the worst imaginable way. Am I right guessing you're frightened of doing that to others? Breaking their trust, crossing personal boundaries? Maybe that's what you're actually afraid of spreading and your fear is just manifesting differently?"

"I…" it was unbearable thought, making anyone feel like he was.

Brajan gave him a moment to answer but as Jaskier couldn't say anything more he started again, voice gentle. "Jaskier, you told me you'd have endured anything to save Geralt. You were ready to sacrifice your own well-being, mental and physical, for his. There's absolutely nothing sick about that. Nor were you inviting such atrocious act to happen by deciding not to fight."

"What you were going to do is incredibly brave and selfless, Jaskier. And I am beyond grateful you never had to go through with it," somehow Brajan's tone managed to turn even gentler even when there was steel underneath.

"There's nothing brave or selfless in me," Jaskier protested through his tears. The innkeeper's words were hitting something deep inside of him, making fracture lines spread out. "I'm terrified of everything. Dragging Geralt down, hurting him with all this. And now I've started to do the same thing to you, too weak not to."

"I _decided_ to let things happen, promised him. I didn't want it. I didn't want Marden to touch me. Didn't want him to watch. Didn't want any of it. But I chose it. _I chose it,_ " Jaskier couldn't stop the words coming out as closer to a wail than anything.

" _You did not._ Jaskier, you didn't have a choice whether or not that man was going to do those things. I still don't know the context but I don't need to. Nothing could change that fact."

"But I-"

"No. You were in a situation where you had no control over what that monster would have done. You could only affect your own actions. And you put your own needs aside, focusing solely on keeping Geralt as safe as possible," Brajan said calmly in a tone that booked no arguments.

The fractures deep inside Jaskier shattered, making him fold into himself with loud cries, unable to even try to stifle them.

He had wanted to hear those words so badly.

For someone to tell him his choice hadn't been a choice at all.

And the nonexistent choice he had made was something he was never going to tell Geralt.

Jaskier didn't know how long it took him to get his tears under control but at no point did the innkeeper try to make him stop. Didn't show impatience or annoyance. Just let him cry his heart out, sometimes offering soothing words but nothing more.

"Thank you," Jaskier whispered, voice thick and broken. "Thank you."

"I'm glad if I could help," Brajan said with a small sad but sincere smile.

"You did. I… Thank you," Jaskier felt out of words. Definitely out of energy.

But also lighter, better.

"You're welcome. You should probably get some rest now. Sometimes talking is the most tiring activity of all," Brajan advised, getting up from the chair he had been sitting in and closed the window. "I'm sure Geralt will be back soon too. I'll see you later, Jaskier."

"Thank you," Jaskier said once more right before the innkeeper stepped out.

The world didn't feel as heavy on Jaskier's shoulders as it had been an hour ago. It was a strange sensation, being able to breathe more freely.

He didn't have long to contemplate it as sleep claimed him almost as soon as his head hit the pillow.

"Hey, mister Witcher! Dad wants to talk to you!" Anja called out to Geralt the moment he entered the inn.

"Kitchen?" Geralt checked, already heading towards it.

"Yep. You definitely know the way by now so I'm not going to escort you," Anja grinned at him, leaning against the table she had been clearing.

Brajan was frowning at a drink he was nursing as Geralt stepped into the kitchen. Noticing his presence, the innkeeper gestured silently for Geralt to take a seat.

"I talked with Jaskier," Brajan said slowly. "I can see why you're worried about him being self-destructive. He doesn't have a high opinion of himself at all, does he?"

"What did he do?" Geralt growled. If Jaskier had hurt himself…

"Nothing. We simply had a conversation. And no, he didn't even hint at wanting to self harm," Brajan informed him. "He just… It sounded like his whole self-worth has been destroyed."

That was one way to put it.

"I hope you both realize that's not something you can fix in a month or two."

"I know," Geralt nodded. He wasn't sure at all if Jaskier had accepted it.

Brajan gave a heavy sigh. "I wish there was more I could do."

"I'd drink to that," Geralt muttered.

"That could be arranged," the innkeeper shot him a smile.

"I think I got through to him, at least a bit," Brajan continued seriously. "I don't know how he's going to react to it at first so I wanted to give you a heads up. Hopefully positively right from the start. But then again, it might take a while for him to adjust. There's no telling with these things."

"Thanks," this was a far better reason to have been invited to have a conversation than Geralt had expected.

"Geralt, I hope you understand how completely in love Jaskier is with you. Don't break his heart and trust," Brajan ordered, holding intense eye contact.

…Was the innkeeper giving him the shovel talk?

Geralt could only blink back at him, too thrown to form words.

"Good," Brajan nodded, retrieving a vase and filled it with water. Placing it in front of Geralt, he pointed at the door. "Go give him those flowers."

Getting up, Geralt realized embarrassed that he had indeed been holding the dandelions the whole time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brajan: I've only had Jaskier for a day and a half, but if anything happened to him, I would kill everyone in this room and then myself.


	66. Chapter 66

Jaskier was asleep again when Geralt entered their room. He placed the flower vase on the nightstand and pulled the chair to him so he could stay at the bard's side. If Jaskier's frown and breathing were anything to go by, he would have to rouse him soon to avoid Jaskier waking in blind panic.

It didn't take long for Jaskier to give a scared whimper, prompting Geralt to act. "Jaskier, wake up. You're having a nightmare. You're safe. Just open your eyes."

Jaskier shot up, ending up sitting on the bed gasping for air.

"Calm down. Everything is fine," Geralt said, drawing the bard's attention to him. "You're safe."

"...Oh... Oh. …A nightmare?"

"Yes."

"Fucking hate those," Jaskier muttered, rubbing his face tiredly before turning to face the Witcher. "Did you have a good time?"

"I brought you flowers." Geralt said, feeling suddenly hesitant and embarrassed.

Jaskier's eyes widened as he whipped his head to look at the dandelions. Geralt could hear how fast the bard's heart started to thrum. After what felt like an agonizingly long time, Jaskier turned back to him, cornflower blue eyes shining with unshed tears and a wide trembling smile gracing his lips. A faint blush dusting his cheeks. Beautiful. Geralt couldn't help but stare at him.

"I love them. I love you. Thank you, Geralt," Jaskier said softly, gravitating closer. "May I kiss your hand?"

It was such an unfamiliar gesture. No one had done that to him before Jaskier.

"Yes."

Taking hold of Geralt's hand, Jaskier pressed his lips against the scarred knuckles and let them linger for a second. Through the wave of warmth surging through his heart, Geralt couldn't help but absurdly pay attention to how badly chapped Jaskier's lips were.

Not that he minded.

Jaskier was kissing him.

Sort of.

"I wish I could give you a proper one," Jaskier gave him a wry smile, still holding his hand.

"This is enough," Geralt told him sincerely. He might wish for more but he also was content with whatever Jaskier was comfortable with.

"Mmmm." there the bard went again with those noncommittal hums.

"Geralt, would you lay down with me? I'm too tired to do anything else quite yet," Jaskier said nervously and quickly adding. "I will eat. Just not right now, please."

"Fine, I'll go get us supper later," Geralt agreed. Besides, he would rather stay with the bard. "And yes."

"Uh, could you actually get underneath the covers?" Jaskier asked quietly, halting him mid-motion.

"Sure," Geralt said bemused as he watched Jaskier move to lay on top of them.

After they were both situated on the bed the bard crawled close to him, studying his face with the beginning of a frown.

"Is it okay if I… If I cuddle with you like this?" Jaskier requested in almost a whisper, surprising Geralt.

"Of course," Geralt could feel his heart skip a beat.

He wondered if Jaskier's sudden craving for physical contact was stemming from whatever had gone down while talking to Brajan. Regardless of the reason, Geralt was happy with it. As long as the bard kept respecting his own limits, not trying too hard. So far it was going well. Jaskier was clearly nervous but not in alarming amounts.

Jaskier hesitantly curled against Geralt's chest, pressing his ear against his heart and draped an arm over him. As Jaskier continued wiggling until comfortable, Geralt admitted it had been a good idea for him to get under the covers. It made it much easier to restrain himself from mirroring the gesture, from wrapping his arms around the bard.

Jaskier was giving him so much.

"Thank you," Jaskier murmured the words mostly against Geralt's shirt. "Sorry I'm making this quite awkward."

"Don't apologize. This is nice," Geralt replied softly, trying to see the bard's face. There was only dirty hair in his field of vision.

"Really?" Jaskier's tone was far too hopeful for the current situation.

"Yes."

"I'm glad."

It took Jaskier some time to relax, his body not sure if it was safe to cuddle or if it should flee. It was safe. It was lovely. Jaskier had missed doing this. Even better that it was with Geralt. The Witcher's strong and slow heartbeat was a hypnotic sound under his ear even through the blanket, so different from a human's. So calming, so steadying.

So uniquely Geralt.

Making it harder to mistake the Witcher for…

…anyone…

…else...

Feeling suddenly overwhelmed and scared, Jaskier let go of Geralt as if burned and retreated all the way to the chair. He couldn't stay on the bed. Not with someone else on it with him.

"Jaskier?" Geralt asked urgently, sitting up.

"I…" Jaskier's throat was too constricted to get more out. Instead he made a vague hand gesture which meaning even he didn't know.

"It's okay, Jaskier. That was a long time to be touching."

It really wasn't. Not for normal people. A few minutes at most.

"Calm down, nothing is wrong."

Right, right, breathing.

Jaskier could do that.

Kind of.

"Try matching your breaths to mine," Geralt advised, starting to take exaggeratedly slow breaths.

Jaskier gave a teary nod, doing his best to mimic the rhythm. After a little while it started to work.

"Hi…" Jaskier said as soon as he had enough air to do so. "Sorry, I don't know what happened. I just… It just got too much without a warning."

Geralt gave a tired sigh, making his point about apologizing again without having to say anything.

"It's fine, Jaskier. I'm glad you retreated the moment it happened."

They sat in silence, Jaskier steadfastly avoiding Geralt's eyes by focusing on twirling his beads.

"Geralt… Are you sure you don't mind me touching you?" Jaskier asked quietly, terrified of the topic he was about to breach. But he needed to do this. He wouldn't be able to ever get truly comfortable with touching or being touched by Geralt, by anyone, if he didn't know the truth. "Don't you mind me being- being used and tainted? Knowing Marden's hands have been on me?"

"What the fuck, Jaskier?" Geralt said, voice low and hands forming fists. "What the fuck makes you think that about yourself?"

"Answer me. Isn't it revolting to you that you are tracing shadows of Marden when you touch me? To know he had started to claim me?" Jaskier continued, fighting against the freezing feeling in his chest and tingling in his fingers. "Most of my upper body is covered in his hand prints, Geralt. And all of me marked by his eyes."

Breaths he had regained were slipping away again.

He was so cold.

"I should have told this right from the start. Before you touched me at all. I'm so sorry. So sorry I've made you touch that filth unknowingly," Jaskier's words were turning into sobs. "Didn't share how disgusting I've become. Didn't explain, make you see. I'm so sorry, Geralt. So sorry."

"Fuck, Jaskier, stop," Geralt sounded angry.

As he should.

Jaskier knew his actions had been abhorrent, not giving Geralt all the information he needed. Letting Geralt make a decision without knowing what he'd actually be doing. He had just been too selfish and scared to lose him.

He still was.

There had to be a point where everything became too much for Geralt. The Witcher had spent years telling him to fuck off, refusing to call him his friend, displeased by his company. And all that was before he had devolved into …this… Jaskier did know Geralt hadn't actually minded half as much as he had been pretending, had started to welcome his company. Against all odds fallen for him.

But love wasn't a miracle cure.

And not letting old hurts to resurface was hard when everything else already ached.

"I can fuck off if you want," Jaskier forced out in between gasps and sobs.

And never return.

"The hell you will. You're not going anywhere," Geralt commanded. "What you will do, is shut the fuck up and breathe."

Jaskier was vaguely aware that there were more words but they were slipping from his grasp, getting lost in the blood rushing in his ears and static filling his mind. His lungs were burning. He couldn't stop crying, knowledge of having betrayed Geralt's trust with his omission eating him alive.

Feeling his stomach churning and mouth watering Jaskier desperately reached for the flower vase, managing to dump its contents onto the floor before throwing up in it. He wished it would make him feel physically better. It didn't. Instead he repeated the action.

"Shit! Jaskier, you really need to calm down!"

His surroundings were swirling, directionless blurs of color with black spots dancing around. All air had disappeared long ago leaving only burns in his useless lungs. The vase was taken away from his grasp right before he would have dropped it.

"Listen to me. You have to control your breathing."

Jaskier hadn't noticed having slid off the chair but the floor was cool against his cheek. It was easier to breathe.

"Jaskier. Please."

He had never heard Geralt sound like that.

The Witcher's voice was almost small.

It was all wrong.

"..." Jaskier couldn't get his own voice cooperate.

"Jaskier? You with me?" apparently Geralt still had noticed.

He sounded more like himself.

"...Sor… sorry…" Jaskier whispered, knowing he didn't deserve forgiveness for what he had done. For not letting Geralt know what exactly he was consenting to. "...So sorry… "

"Jaskier, it's okay. Just try to stay calm," Geralt coaxed. "And don't move yet. You practically fell down."

"Mm." so that's why he was on the floor.

"Can I come to you?"

"...Yeah…" not that Jaskier understood why he would want to.

"Thanks," Geralt said as he slowly kneeled by Jaskier's side. "Jaskier, we need to talk about this. Don't you dare to shut me out."

"...It's why I finally told you." Jaskier agreed, unable to look at the Witcher. "It just… didn't go as planned."

"Did you hit your head?"

That made Jaskier move just enough to give Geralt an exhausted and tearful glare.

"Did you hit your head when you fell?" Geralt repeated.

"...I don't think so," Jaskier was slowly regaining awareness of his limbs. He could feel a headache building but it was a familiar one.

"Does your neck or back hurt?"

"No," not more than one would expect.

"Can you move your arms and legs normally? No pain?" Geralt asked, looking like he wanted to check for himself.

It was an overreaction. But it probably also was Geralt's way of calming himself down, so Jaskier obediently stretched and let the Witcher know nothing was broken. He did hurt, it just was from all the muscle tension. Didn't have anything to do with the fall.

"You can sit up now," Geralt declared. "I'll bring you water and then we'll talk."

It took Jaskier as long to sit up as it took Geralt to get to the table to pour a mug and bring it to him. Jaskier accepted it with shaking hands and leaned against the bed to steady himself.

"Jaskier, what the fuck was that?" Geralt started the conversation.

Jaskier really wished he could fake not knowing what the Witcher was talking about. But this was what he had wanted in the first place, talk this through. Even if it'd probably end up with Geralt finally packing his bags and leaving with Roach.

"I want you to know what's happening," Jaskier said, staring at the mug in his hands. After taking a moment to breath, he continued with trembling words. "I really, really, should have shared the moment I realized. I'm so sorry I was too much of a coward to do it."

"If the things you said were your revelation, then you have shit," Geralt stated, trying to find eye contact. "There's no layer of dirt on you or whatever you imagine there to be."

"I can feel him, Geralt. It's disgusting. It's making me disgusting, carrying part of him around on my skin. Rubbing his touch on others," it was hard keeping his breathing even close to even.

"Jaskier, take a break," Geralt interrupted. "Don't let yourself get swept away again."

With a nod Jaskier took a sip, letting the cool water soothe his throat. Waited until he had his breaths under control again. Geralt kept sitting still, not hurrying him to continue.

"I should have told you, Geralt. Let you decide if you want to touch where Marden has. Decide if you want to have anything to do with something like me at all."

"You. Are not. A thing, Jaskier," Geralt ground out.

Why the Witcher had to ignore the whole point of the talk, Jaskier didn't know.

"I'm a commodity. And that's not important here," Jaskier waived it away, wanting to get through the conversation before he'd break down yet again. He was close to it. He knew he had been confronting too much in a far too short time. "Marden is still lingering on me, Geralt. When you touch me, you also sully your hands. It's not… always as bad. And I can't handle contact anyway when I can literally feel his hands on me. So I thought, I thought, it'd be okay if you didn't know."

"But I'm slowly getting used to you touching me. Even for a little longer periods. I can't keep this away from you anymore. Can't let you remain oblivious to what you're touching," Jaskier didn't want to continue as he had to once again blink tears away. "Didn't exaggerate when I said his hands were almost everywhere on my torso. Have told you he re- removed my doublet. Used that too as an excuse to feel me up."

"Jaskier…"

It was incredible how many tears one man could shed, Jaskier thought ruefully as he tried to wipe them away. "Didn't touch my legs. Or anywhere inappropriate. My own mind takes care of being terrified of touching those."

"Should I leave now?" Jaskier couldn't keep his voice from breaking.

"Why the fuck would I want that?" Geralt asked incredulously.

"I'm repulsive! And I'll just end up making you too feel disgusted with yourself!"

"No."

"No?"

"No, I don't want you to leave," Geralt said plainly. "No, you're not repulsive. No, you won't make me feel disgusting. No, you don't spread filth around. No, you're not filthy in the first place. No, you're not a commodity. Just no."

"Why won't you understand?" Jaskier demanded agitated.

He didn't know how else to word it to make Geralt see.

"Out of two of us, I'm the one understanding what's going on here," Geralt stated.

"Fuck you, Geralt!"

"Jaskier-"

"Go to hell!" Jaskier hissed.

He didn't want to hear how even his experiences were worthless. How he didn't know what he had lived through. Was living through. Jaskier wanted to tear into Geralt with his words, to make him bleed, to make the Witcher hurt as much and deeply as he was.

He wouldn't.

Geralt didn't deserve it.

Instead Jaskier hugged his knees and tucked his face behind them.

He wished to cease existing for an hour or two.

"Jaskier?"

After a moment of silence Geralt continued. "You're mirroring. Seeing in others what you're feeling. You feel horrible about having been molested, have those sensations of it, so you've convinced yourself that others will feel the same if they touch you, that the echoes will… echo."

It… did sound plausible. Maybe.

"Hmm."

"You do know it doesn't work like that? You're not a mage, you can't make people feel how you feel," Geralt added.

"...Sure can…" Jaskier mumbled into his knees.

"How?"

"Music."

Geralt snorted at his answer. It was a nicer sound than it had any right to be.

Geralt didn't know if he had gotten through to Jaskier. He hoped he had. Even a little. He didn't want to keep hearing Jaskier thinking himself as poisonous to be around. It made Geralt yearn to rip something apart, preferably the sick fuck of a king.

Or the fabric of time itself so this would never have happened.

Didn't help that either Jaskier was still thinking, or something had made the idea return, that he was some sort of an object to be passed around. A commodity. Fuck that. Bards were professional entertainers and not some prizes to take out for a spin and tumble in hay either for coin or free and unwilling. Jaskier would never think so lowly of any of his fellow performers. Or whores. Or anyone in general. These double standards were infuriating.

Music really had to be Jaskier's one true love for the bard to still have no doubts about continuing his profession.

"You should rest," Geralt said, studying Jaskier closely. The bard looked awful. Pale, sweating, shaking. "I'll wake you up later for food."

Without a word or nod Jaskier climbed back to the bed, not bothering to even get under the covers. Just laid on his side and closed his eyes.

Jaskier had definitely pushed himself far past his limits.

But the bard did seem to have reached the point where he was ready to truly talk. To start working through the problems, not only trying to cope.

If only it didn't have to be so painful for Jaskier.

"Need anything?" Geralt decided to check before letting Jaskier be for now.

Barely discernible head shake was his answer.

"Try to sleep, okay."

Geralt was satisfied with the way Jaskier's breathing quickly turned deep and slow as the bard fell asleep, dragged down by panic induced and emotional exhaustion of the conversations. Strange how such a simple thing as Jaskier sleeping could feel remarkable.

Everything was so fucked up.

With a suppressed sigh Geralt settled down to meditate. Or rather trying to figure out what to do with the new information. He frankly didn't know. It wasn't as if he could physically show how he didn't hold an ounce of revulsion, only attraction. Starting to suddenly compliment Jaskier for accepting any touching would only sound condescending to the point of insulting. Continuing as he had was probably the best course of action.

As shadows grew long, Geralt decided it was time to get them something to eat. Jaskier was still sleeping like a log so Geralt quietly left the room. He'd wake the bard once he was back with their dinner.

"Could we go downstairs for breakfast?" Jaskier asked, surprising Geralt.

He hadn't dared to hope the bard would be able to do so yet. Not with the way Jaskier had been unable to function for days and definitely not after how yesterday had gone.

But if the fifth morning was the charm, Geralt was more than happy to take it. "Of course."

Jaskier was still moving sluggishly as they made their way downstairs, even holding on to him anxiously. But those were minor details in the face of the fact that Jaskier was again ready to go among people. Undeniable proof of the debilitating depression starting to truly pass.

"Jaskier, you're up! I've missed your music." Anja beamed behind the counter she was manning, making the bard flinch. "Oh, and morning to you too Geralt."

The girl had apparently decided they were part of the daily going-ons. Geralt really didn't know what to think of it and the excited friendliness. Aside from the fact that she needed to tone it down and stop making Jaskier nervous.

"You want breakfast, right?" Anja asked and without waiting for an answer skipped to the doorway leading to the backroom. Drawing a deep breath, she yelled. "Dad! Jaskier and Geralt want food!"

"Stop shouting!" came the immediate reply from somewhere deeper in the work areas. Geralt was almost positive it was Hanna's voice.

They both needed to stop bellowing. Jaskier was hair's breadth away from pressing himself against his side.

"You can lean on me if you want," Geralt murmured quietly. The effect was almost instantaneous as the bard glued himself against him with a relieved exhale.

"Don't yell," Geralt grunted when Anja returned to her station.

"Sorry!" she exclaimed, taking a look at them. At Jaskier. Realizing her mistake she tried again, this time using an appropriate volume. "Wait, no, sorry."

"Anyway, dad will bring you breakfast soon. Or Hanna. But I bet it'll be dad. He likes you two," Anja continued with a wide smile. "So take a seat and all that. You know how taverns work."

Geralt really had no idea where her enthusiasm was stemming from. Weren't teenagers supposed to be moody in the early morning? Sleepy at least.

Jaskier let go of him only when they reached the most remote table so they could take seats. Instead the bard started immediately fidgeting with his beads, leg bouncing and eyes flitting around the room searching for threats.

"You're safe. Nothing has changed here since last time," Geralt said, trying to center Jaskier.

"I know," Jaskier muttered, turning to look at him but keeping up all the other anxious ticks. "Just been a while since seeing strangers."

"Hmmm."

It didn't take long for Brajan to head towards them, carrying a tray filled with food. Geralt noticed Anja giving them thumbs up for some unfathomable reason behind the innkeeper's back.

"It's good to see you down here, Jaskier," Brajan said with a warm smile as he placed the tray down. "I hope you both slept well."

"Thank you. We did sleep at least," Jaskier sighed as he reached for his tea.

The well part was debatable, Geralt agreed.

"I don't know your plans for today but if you want more company, you're welcome to join us in the back. There's space in the corner," Brajan offered before adding hastily. "Could have worded that better. Kitchen has a corner table so you don't have to worry about getting in the way. More the merrier."

Geralt purposefully ignored the questioning look Jaskier gave him. The bard needed to get used to making decisions by himself again. Inconsequential things like this would be a safe way for him to get back into the habit. Not having to worry there being a wrong answer.

"Uhh, thank you. We'll think about it," Jaskier said after a small pause.

Geralt stifled an exasperated sigh at the non-decision.

"Come whenever you want," Brajan nodded and started to head back. "Enjoy your breakfast."

"The blanket should be done today. Want to come along to get it, Jaskier?" Geralt asked.

He didn't actually want the bard to join him, sure going out would be too much. But he just had hoped Jaskier to make a decision. It'd be hypocritical to deny even the chance from him now.

"I… I can't…" Jaskier whispered, looking ashamed as he stared at his tea. "Sorry."

"It's fine. Coming here is already a big improvement," Geralt said in a tone he hoped was encouraging but not condescending.

"Mhmmm."

"Mind if I leave once we're finished?"

"No, go ahead," Jaskier answered and took a small bite of his bread. "Take as long as you want."

It was good to see the bard eat.

"What will you do?" Geralt was going to make Jaskier at least voice options even if he wouldn't decide right now.

"I don't know. Try to work probably, review the progress at least," Jaskier shrugged. "Geralt, do you think Brajan really meant what he said? About welcoming our presence even while working? And what about rest of his family?"

Oh, Jaskier probably wanted to take the innkeeper up on his invitation. Now if the bard just would figure out that he was good company.

"Brajan is an honest man," to the point of bluntness when he wanted to be Geralt added in his mind. "Definitely has talked with his family too about this."

"I bet Anja in particular would be excited. Just seeing you cheered her up," he continued, glancing at the girl who had draped herself over the bar in exaggerated boredom due not having anything to do. "Shares your flare for dramatics."

"Perfectly normal reaction," Jaskier defended her as he too took a look. "Not everyone can impersonate a rock like you do."

"Hmph."

"Take it easy while I'm gone, Jaskier," Geralt said as he got up to escort the bard back to their room and to don his gear before leaving. "No one wants a repeat of yesterday."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh Jaskier. I really, really, wish talking wasn't so painful. ;w; But he's Doing It...!


	67. Chapter 67

The bookstore had just opened when Geralt walked in. Its size didn't really inspire confidence in him in regards to finding an alchemy book. Especially one that contained what he wanted, no matter how common, so to speak, sleeping potions were.

"Ummm, are you looking for something specific?" the shopkeeper inquired, fear and professionalism warring on his face.

"Alchemy books."

"Oh, I'm sorry I don't have those," the shopkeeper cringed, looking worried. "A bit too obscure. But I can order them. Going to take some time but it's not the first time I do so."

Fuck.

"No. I don't have the time," struck by an idea, Geralt continued. "Any books on poetry?"

"Those I do have," came the relieved answer. "They're over there."

Looking through the titles Geralt realized that he had absolutely no fucking clue which were good and which were crap. Shrugging, he simply grabbed the thickest one to buy. It would at least take the longest to read through if Jaskier found the quality lacking.

Geralt could hear the shopkeeper give a shuddering sigh of relief as he stepped out of the shop.

Not wasting time, he headed to the same jewelry stall in the market square he had visited with Jaskier. Choosing bead necklaces for the bard turned out to be easier than deciding on the book. By now he had witnessed enough of Jaskier's fashion sense to at least make an educated guess. Not that he was certain how well he had managed but most likely Jaskier wouldn't absolutely hate the jewelry chosen for him.

Retreating to a quiet corner away from the busiest parts, Geralt tried to think if there was something else he should get before heading to the apothecary and seamstress.

For a brief moment he entertained the thought of getting Jaskier a sword to defend himself. But the bard would just point blank refuse and remind him that he had already told him in clear words having no interest in brushing up on his old skills with swords.

He should.

Jaskier would be much safer with a more substantial blade than his stiletto. When supervised.

But no. Weaponry was out of the question.

The bard also had enough of that fragrant soap he loved to last him what to Geralt seemed like a lifetime. Or two with the frequency Jaskier currently washed.

No need for lute oil or strings either. Ink, quills, pens, and notebooks were also taken care of.

Deciding to walk around for a bit to see if anything would catch his eye, Geralt joined the crowd again. It felt strange shopping without Jaskier. Especially as he was essentially doing it in the fashion the bard preferred, just going from stall to stall to see if there was something interesting. Geralt never had wandered around markets aimlessly unless trailing after Jaskier to make sure he wouldn't manage to get in trouble. Had never even seen the appeal of the purposeless meandering.

He definitely didn't see it now that he was the one doing it.

Geralt had just passed a merchant selling soaps and other beauty products when he halted and turned on his heels, going back to it.

"Can I help you?" the seller asked, gesturing at her merchandise.

"That hair cutting kit," Geralt said, pointing at the tools neatly bundled up with a ribbon. "I'll take it."

"Good choice. Would you also like oils for the scalp and hair? They'll turn the grooming into a luxurious moment to take time to yourself and relax," the merchant tempted, lifting one of the small bottles for inspection.

"No."

"Are you su-"

"Yes."

"I could have given you a special discount for the oils but just the kit it is then."

Geralt was glad to walk away the second the transaction was finished. He'd never admit having used more speed than strictly necessary. It was obviously just because he wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible. Nothing else.

Having decided to get the blanket last, Geralt headed towards the apothecary. Even if he would have forgotten its location, it'd be easy to find by simply following the smell. The closer to it he walked, the more pungent the air turned, too many herbs and ingredients warring and mingling in a far too small space.

Still and cross-armed, Geralt did his best to shove the noisome stench off his mind as he waited for the other customer to finish her business. The moment she stepped away from the counter, Geralt marched up to it.

"I need the formula for the sleeping potion," he stated without preamble. No reason to purposefully drag this out.

"No. That's not for sale," the pharmacist denied immediately. "I have ready-made draughts you can buy."

"They were useful. Which is why I need to learn how to brew them," Geralt acknowledged. "I'll pay well."

"Don't you know what no means?" the pharmacist asked annoyed, making Geralt bristle.

He was too fucking aware of the meaning.

He wouldn't snarl at her.

That would destroy any chance of getting the recipe.

Instead he simply locked eyes with the woman. "I'm not setting up a shop to compete against you. I just want it for personal use."

"I doubt you could even afford it," the pharmacist argued, tossing her hair. "I wouldn't part of it cheaply."

"Specter dust and light essence," Geralt said, placing the vials he had taken out of his bag on the counter.

The way the woman's eyes lit up made Geralt almost certain he'd obtain the formula.

"Huh. You don't see these every day," the pharmacist said slowly as she lifted the dust for inspection. "I think we can find an agreement after all."

They did indeed.

Purse lighter yet heavier than he had predicted, Geralt continued to the seamstress.

Jaskier curled on the bed and pulled the weighted blanket over his head to cover all of himself, hoping it'd give him an illusion of safety.

He had known it'd be hard to be separated from Geralt.

He just hadn't predicted how hard.

Jaskier could feel his anxiety surging, trying to drag him down like a tidal wave, using the past few days as fuel. Afraid of the dark depths he'd drown in, Jaskier started to count his breaths, trying to shut out any other sensations than the warm weight on top of him.

His eyes stung.

His chest was getting cold and fingers starting to tingle in an alarming fashion.

No, no, no, he wasn't going to just lay here and let himself be swallowed by panic.

He was not.

Bolting up from the bed, Jaskier wrapped the heavy blanket tightly around his shoulders, blinked his eyes until he could see past the unshed tears, and headed downstairs with shaking legs and building trepidation the closer to the tavern he shuffled. By the time Jaskier had reached the mid-way point, he was moving more out of sheer stubbornness than anything else.

"Oh, Jaskier! Need help?" Anja exclaimed as she rushed towards him, leaving the counter she still had been manning.

Jaskier couldn't help but give a small alarmed yelp as the girl ran to him, stopping too close for comfort. Anja seemed to realize her mistake as she immediately took a step backwards. It still left Jaskier's heart racing even faster.

"Want to come to the kitchen? Dad is there. Plus Ella and Hanna but they aren't important," Anja said, gesturing him to keep walking and positioned herself to shield him from the curious looks of the other patrons as well as her slim frame allowed.

"I mean, they are important. Obviously. But not essential at the moment. It's dad you're looking for, right?" she chattered as they made their slow way to the kitchen. "I'll try to convince Hanna to trade chores. Then I could keep you company."

Not being able to get words out with the way he was fighting against crying, Jaskier gave a small nod. He was looking for Brajan. Being around the innkeeper would currently be the safest place.

And Jaskier desperately needed even a sliver of safety.

He was too scared something would happen, for someone to seek him out and do as they pleased, to leave him even more hurt and broken in their wake. He knew it was an irrational fear but was powerless to curb it, not having the necessary energy to handle it alone. He needed someone to help him deal.

No matter how ashamed the fact left him.

"Dad, Jaskier is here," Anja announced as they stepped into the kitchen, startling Jaskier yet again.

He hadn't noticed arriving, too occupied with holding himself together.

"You're safe with us, Jaskier," Brajan said softly. "Please, take a seat. I'll make you tea."

Jaskier wanted to believe he was safe.

He really did.

"Have a strawberry," Anja commanded, placing a bowl of them on the table before sitting in front of him.

"Trust me, it gets automatically harder to be upset when you're eating them," she fake whispered and took one for herself. "It's a true and tried method."

Not knowing how else to react, Jaskier picked one.

"You're supposed to put it in your mouth, you know."

Jaskier kept staring at it for a while longer before taking a nibble. It tasted like strawberry, not ash or sawdust. Relieved, he took another tiny bite

"Is Geralt out riding?" Brajan asked, serving him tea.

Still not trusting his voice, Jaskier shook his head.

"Oh? Did he go somewhere else or…?"

Jaskier wasn't sure if he only imagined it but there seemed to be a slightly threatening note in the way the question trailed off.

"...Shopping…" the word was faint and strangled but at least he got it out.

"Can't blame you for not wanting to join him," Brajan nodded, shoulders losing tension. "It can get hectic out there."

"Mhmmm."

The tingling in Jaskier's fingers was starting to disperse, as the warmth and liveliness of the kitchen were starting to slowly relax him. There was absolutely no way for anyone get to him without notice.

He was safe.

It felt strange.

It felt good.

"Jaskier, what's wrong?" Anja gasped, making Jaskier realize tears had started to run down his cheeks.

"Safe," Jaskier croaked, hiding his face behind hands and resting elbows on the table. "I feel safe."

"That's the power of strawberries," Anja announced.

Jaskier could practically hear the teasing grin in the girl's voice.

"Settle down, Anja," Brajan chided good-naturedly. "And start chopping those carrots. Hanna didn't go take care of your job so you could lounge around."

"It's okay, Jaskier. You don't have to hold it in. No one here will judge you for tears," the innkeeper continued softly as Jaskier unsuccessfully tried to stop the tears from falling. "Nothing shameful about crying. Everyone needs to do so sometimes."

Jaskier laid his arms on the table and ducked his head to rest against them, shoulders shaking as he gave up on suppressing his cries.

He'd deal with the embarrassment later.

"Come on, girls. Back to work," Brajan urged quietly.

Being pointedly ignored had never been such a relief.

Eventually the mundane conversation going on around him accompanied by the sounds of working started to calm him down, allowing his sobs turn into hiccups and from there to quiet sniffles.

"Here."

Jaskier lifted his face to see Ella holding out a handkerchief for him.

"Thanks," Jaskier mumbled, taking it carefully.

"No problem. I brought water too," the girl said with a smile, gesturing at a jug that had appeared on the table. "Don't want you to get a headache."

That ship had already sailed.

"Thank you," Jaskier repeated, rubbing at the tear tracks streaking his cheeks.

"Eat a strawberry!" Anja called out cheerfully.

"Stop talking about the strawberries," Brajan groaned in mock exasperation as he moved behind his daughter to lift her off her feet and twirl her around a few times before letting go. "If you don't finish prepping those vegetables you won't even hold one before next summer."

It was all so loving and domestic that Jaskier couldn't help but chuckle as Anja's bright laughter filled the kitchen.

"She really, really, loves strawberries. None of us understands why she's always so excited about them," Ella informed him, taking a seat to start darning a dress.

"They taste like summer!" came the answer.

"None of us understands," Ella repeated firmly.

"Ah, summer is sunlight and joy, the warmth on one's skin and sweet memories in making. If it could be tasted, it surely would be strawberry," Jaskier nodded sagely, making Anja crow in agreement.

"What's autumn then?" Ella asked, glancing at him before focusing on her sewing. "Or winter?"

"The crisp mornings and fallen leaves crinkling underfoot, the weeping skies and howling winds. Clearly it's tart apple," Jaskier smiled. "And winter is mulled wine. The never-ending nights and flames dancing in fireplaces, stories passed from lips to lips and snow turning the scenery into a quiet secret."

"And spring?"

"Honey. The nature singing and snowmelt daring rivers to swell, the first flowers blooming and lovers finding each other."

Geralt would definitely scoff at the idea of seasons having a taste. Or maybe not. The air smelled different depending on the time of the year so maybe it also had a concrete taste. He would have to ask the Witcher.

"Hey, Jaskier. Have you turned all your travels with Geralt into songs?" Ella stopped darning again to look at him. "Or do you have some you haven't performed?"

"Hmmm, I do have plenty of stories I haven't told," Jaskier confirmed, fidgeting with his beads. "Would you like to hear about the time Geralt was asked to take a care of a beast destroying fields?"

Geralt could hear Jaskier singing even before he entered the inn.

Fuck.

No.

_"Mud Wolf, Mud Wolf_  
_You were white_  
_I could have sworn"_

Without waiting for Hanna to give him permission, Geralt marched past her to the kitchen.

_"Mud Wolf, Mud Wolf_  
_Wrestled with a worm_  
_Mud Wolf, Mud Wolf_  
_Almost bested by a worm"_

"Shut the fuck up, Jaskier!" Geralt barked the second he caught the sight of the bard.

The singing cut off immediately as Jaskier froze up, cheeks paling. The bard wasn't even breathing with the way he stayed absolutely still.

Oh. Fuck.

"Geralt, language!" Brajan snapped, eliciting snorts from both Ella and Anja.

Ignoring the innkeeper, Geralt walked to Jaskier's side making sure to soften his tone. "Jaskier, breath. Didn't mean to scare you."

The bard took a big gulp of air before focusing on him. "...Hi. Did you have fun?"

"Got what I needed," Geralt answered, gauging Jaskier's condition and presenting him the weighted blanket he had been carrying.

Jaskier shrugged off the borrowed one, wrapping his own around himself instead.

"Thank you for lending me yours until now," Jaskier said to Brajan, folding the blanket into a neat square and handed it to Ella.

"No problem. I'm glad it was useful," Brajan assured. "It's good you decided to commission one for yourself too. Keep it dry and it'll last you years."

"Want to stay or go upstairs?" Geralt asked Jaskier, still paying attention to his tone. His entrance could have gone better. No matter how fucking irritating the tune Jaskier had been singing was.

Geralt did not want it to start circling around.

"I want to hear how the song ends," Anja declared to Geralt's annoyance before the bard had time to answer.

"I, uh… I'll sing it for you later, Anja," Jaskier said as he got up. "I think I'll go with Geralt. Sorry for intruding."

"You're not intruding," came the chorused rebuttal from three different people, making Jaskier blink and Geralt fight to keep his face expressionless.

"...Right... Still, thank you," Jaskier continued hesitantly. "I'll see you later."

Geralt nodded his own goodbyes and started to lead the bard back to their room. It was nice to see Jaskier doing well after being separated. Going to spend time with Brajan had definitely been a good decision on Jaskier's part.

"How are you?" Geralt asked as he closed the door after them, not wanting to only trust what his senses told him.

"Way better than I thought I'd be," Jaskier answered casually as if nothing he had said was alarming.

Geralt took a deep breath to keep himself from commenting before continuing. "Did you spend the whole time with them?"

"Almost. Didn't take long for me to start panicking alone," Jaskier admitted, cheeks flushing red. "So I went downstairs."

"Good."

"Geralt I… I felt safe," Jaskier said in wonderment, looking the Witcher in the eye. "I felt safe with them. Without you."

Geralt didn't feel like keeping the smile from forming as he watched the bard. "I'm glad."

"It was overwhelming. Feeling suddenly safe," Jaskier sighed, meandering to sit on the bed. "It's really hard to remember it used to be like that, me not needing you to be able to do anything. I know it was only a month or so ago but it's also like a whole another lifetime."

"It was the first time I felt safe without you, Geralt," the bard repeated, sounding almost stricken.

"I'm glad," Geralt said again sincerely. "Mind if I sit with you?"

"Come here," Jaskier patted the mattress next to himself.

"I got the formula for the sleeping potions," Geralt told him, starting to unpack his purchases. "Bought a ready-made draught too for tonight."

"Please don't tell me you used all your money buying it from the pharmacist," Jaskier said aghast.

"No. Didn't cost much, traded it mostly for the noonwraith remains," Geralt shrugged. But he would have used every single crown to get it if it had been necessary.

"But your potions-"

"I don't need anything from a noonwraith currently," Geralt didn't give Jaskier time to finish protesting as he brought out the few necklaces he had bought. "Your current one will break eventually."

"Oh. Thank you," Jaskier said surprised, starting to look them through. "You have a better taste than I would have thought."

"Hmph."

"How much did th-"

To cut Jaskier's question off, Geralt continued unpacking his bag. "Might be absolute crap, but here.

"Geralt? What? Did you buy the whole town empty?" Jaskier asked perplexed, reflexively taking the book handed to him. Looking down on it, he started to thumb through it. "I haven't read this one before."

Geralt hadn't even thought about that possibility.

Feeling suddenly nervous he took hold of the last gift, turning to fully face the bard. "I also bought you these."

Jaskier placed the book down on the mattress as he stared at the hair cutting tools with a blank expression, making Geralt wonder if he had crossed a line.

"Geralt…" even the bard's voice was emotionless.

He really had screwed up, hadn't he?

"Geralt, are you sure, absolutely, one hundred percent, completely sure, you don't mind me touching you?" Jaskier asked, finally lifting his eyes away from the tools to look at him. "Even after everything I told you?"

"Yes."

There was nothing Geralt was more sure of.

"Then I… Would you allow me to kiss your cheek?"

That was not how he had expected Jaskier to continue.

"Yes," it came out as more of a breath than anything. "Yes."

"Please, stay still," Jaskier whispered, closing the distance between them. Geralt could feel the hand Jaskier placed against his cheek trembling.

For a moment they stayed like that just watching each other until Jaskier leaned in. As the bard's lips pressed against his skin, Geralt felt like he was drowning in the love and trust the simple action conveyed.

He never wanted to come up for air again.

Jaskier had tried hard not to think about his hair. Not that it worked well. Not when he still got phantom sensations of Marden washing it and yanking it painfully, not when he had been able to gather himself together enough to wash it few times only to notice it getting longer again.

He hadn't wanted to think about it.

Now Geralt had gotten him tools to concretely do something about it.

Jaskier was more than half tempted to shave it all off, not leave a single hair. Leaving absolutely nothing anyone could grab. He would look terrible like that. But even stronger than the vanity, Jaskier wasn't sure if he could handle losing one more piece of himself to Marden.

So much had already been violently ripped from him.

Not having the words to convey just how much the gift meant for him, Jaskier gave Geralt as much of himself as he could. He wanted to give everything he was, every piece there was left of him.

But the soft kiss on the cheek was all he could do at the moment.

Jaskier hoped Geralt would understand the depth of the meaning behind what should be a simple action. Jaskier felt like he was walking on an edge, full-heartedly wanting to do so yet a cold shiver of unease threatening to run through him.

But oh, how he wanted to kiss Geralt.

"Thank you, Geralt," Jaskier said softly as he leaned back. "Thank you so much, my love."

Geralt's reaction to the endearment was still the same as last time. The Witcher froze, staring at him looking like a startled deer and the faintest blush rising to his cheeks.

Geralt opened his mouth only to close it again as an unintelligible noise escaped. It was adorable how the Witcher got so out of sorts due to endearments.

Yawning, Jaskier moved to place everything on the nightstand before laying down. He felt so heavy suddenly, socializing for so long having drained his energy.

"Geralt? Could you join me before going to take Roach out for a run?" Jaskier asked, struggling to keep his eyes open.

Geralt gave a hum as he too laid down on the bed, facing Jaskier.

"I'm going fall asleep any minute. Could you still please stay? Just for a moment?" Jaskier requested, gazing at Geralt with half-lidded eyes.

It was unfathomable how Geralt could love someone like him. Someone so much younger than him, someone so foolish and so broken. Yet there the Witcher was, watching him with a fond look that Jaskier was sure Geralt wasn't even aware of.

"I'll stay as long as you want, Jaskier."

Geralt was still in the room when Jaskier woke up. Or most likely the Witcher had already returned.

"Hi," Jaskier greeted, sitting up to lean against the headboard. "How was Roach?"

"Good," Geralt said and after a brief pause continued. "Misses you."

That was cute of him.

"Maybe we could go visit her tomorrow…?" Jaskier ventured hopefully. Maybe the dreamless sleep the potion would grant him would be enough to give him strength to go outside.

"She'd like that"

_I would like that,_ Jaskier translated.

With a tired sigh Jaskier heaved himself out of the bed, grabbed the hair cutting kit and walked to his saddlebag with legs that felt more lead than flesh.

"Geralt, I want to cut my hair. Could you hold up a mirror for me, please?" Jaskier asked in a small voice as he dug his hand mirror out. "You don't have to. I can do without it."

"Of course I will," Geralt said, coming to take it.

"Thank you," Jaskier sat down unceremoniously on the floor, close to a wall and facing the door to be able to see if someone tried to get in. "Come sit in front of me."

"I have no idea what I'm doing," Jaskier muttered almost more to himself than Geralt as he got ready to cut off the first lock of his hair. "Never done this before."

It was hard to see himself in the mirror, the reflection not matching the mental image, the memory of himself at all. He looked fucking horrible. Far too pale skin, deep bruises under sunken eyes and too prominent cheekbones. If he could, he would rather turn away and hide the small mirror again. Jaskier didn't want to see himself looking so ugly.

Bad enough others had to.

With a baited breath Jaskier let the shears snip his hair. And again and again and again. The loose hairs falling down with each cut were a strange kind of relief. He had all the control over what would happen. Whether or not the style would be flattering or well cut didn't matter that much.

He already looked terrible.

Jaskier worked in silence until he started trimming the back. Finding the angle difficult Jaskier let his arms fall after a while as he stared at the floor, trying to gather himself.

"Geralt, could you cut the back?" he had been okay with the Witcher taking care of his hair only days after everything. It should be okay now too.

"Jaskier, are you sure?" there was a note of doubt in Geralt's voice.

Jaskier couldn't fault him for it.

He felt the same.

"Yeah," Jaskier whispered, turning around to face away from the Witcher after handing him the comb and shears.

"I'm going to touch you now, okay?" Geralt warned, giving him time to refuse.

Jaskier was grateful Geralt did his best not to let his fingers brush against his scalp, using the comb as much as he possibly could.

It wasn't as bad as Jaskier had thought it'd be.

It was horrible.

It kept getting worse.

Water was suddenly poured over his head.

"No!" Jaskier shrieked, scrambling away from the light touch. "No!"

He wished he'd be listened to.

He knew he wouldn't be.

There were hands massaging soap into his hair.

Jaskier didn't know why he had even wished his words to have an effect.

"Jaskier, you're safe. Safe at the inn. Open your eyes and look around. It's just me with you. You're safe."

"No," it wasn't safe.

"Deep calm breaths, Jaskier. You're having a panic attack. Just look around and tell me what you see."

Wasn't it the water being dumped on him without a warning stealing his breath?

"Feel the beads around your neck? Didn't have them at the castle. You're not there. You're safe. Jaskier, you're safe."

It was hard to open his eyes. Jaskier wasn't sure how it was meant to even help when his vision was swimming with tears.

"That's it, Jaskier. Tell me what you see. It's safe. You're safe."

That blur had to be "...Ge- Geralt…?"

"Yeah, it's me. What else is here?"

Geralt hadn't been there when Marden played with him like a doll.

Bolstered by the realization, Jaskier tried his best to blink tears away enough to see better. He had to be missing something. Something important.

"...A bed…" that wasn't reassuring.

"...A nightstand… Chair… Table…" those were better. "Saddlebags… Saddlebags."

"...Hi," Jaskier gasped.

It was still difficult to breath.

"Good, good, Jaskier. Focus on your breaths. You know how to control them," Geralt coaxed him calmly. "You can also match mine."

Jaskier's chest was hurting by the time he was breathing normally again. He felt exhausted enough to want to slump to the floor right where he was, just slide along the wall until there was no farther to go. Knowing he wouldn't be getting up for a long time if he gave in, Jaskier got up to take the few necessary steps to the bed where he collapsed onto it.

"Sorry," Jaskier whispered, not having the strength to keep the word from escaping.

"Don't," Geralt huffed before softening his tone. "Need anything?"

Painkillers.

Geralt had painkillers. Jaskier felt almost proud of himself for finally remembering it.

"Headache," Jaskier could feel one building again already. Everything ached too. But that wasn't important enough to mention. He wasn't sure if the headache had been either even though he could tell it'd be a really bad one. Probably the earlier one that disappeared with sleep was coming back with vengeance.

"Shit," Geralt muttered, going to pull something out of his saddlebag.

"Drink this. And then water," Geralt instructed as he handed Jaskier a potion, holding a mug in his other hand. "Got around to brewing a batch of painkillers couple of days ago."

"Mmmm," it was good Geralt had something productive to do.

"Give it a minute and you'll start feeling better," Geralt said, taking both the mug and the vial back after Jaskier was done. "Too early for you to take the sleeping potion but try to rest anyway. I'll wake you up later for food and it."

"Thank you, Geralt," Jaskier murmured as he dragged the weighted blanket to cover himself. "And thank you for trying to cut my hair. Sorry I couldn't handle it."

"It's fine," Geralt sighed. "Do you want me to join you?"

"No. I… No. Don't."

"I won't."

Jaskier really didn't know what he had done to deserve Geralt.

Super talented [Yourshadow18](https://yourshadow18.tumblr.com/) drew this BEAUTIFUL pic of Jaskier!!!!! I may or may not have teared up. ~~I definitely did.~~ I LOVE IT. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier not wanting to practice with swords is a reference to the previous part of the series. It's also the story where Jaskier got the scars on his back.
> 
> Snippet of the Mud Wolf song and the accompanied tale are from the 3rd part of the series!


	68. Chapter 68

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EXPLICIT TAG:  
> for Geralt having some happy alone time in bath, aka masturbation
> 
> It's super easy to skip since it's at the very end of the chapter. Starts after this sentence (not that it is suddenly BOOM action):
> 
> "Those strong and dexterous fingers finding the pressure points and not letting up until the muscles turned pliant and relaxed while the bard chattered about nothing and everything."

Jaskier woke up to the disgusting realization that his face was pressing against a saliva dampened pillow. With a disgruntled huff he rolled away from it, stopping on his back to stare at the ceiling and try to decide if he was ready to stay awake.

"Morning," Geralt greeted him from somewhere out of his eyesight.

"Mmphhpff."

A snort was all Jaskier got in response.

Coming to the conclusion he might just as well face the day, he pushed the covers away and got up, feeling like a creaky hinge. A creaky hinge that had been left out in the rain for three years.

"Dear Melitele, I'm stiff," Jaskier groaned, trying to reach his toes and failing spectacularly. Sleeping far too much combined with general inactivity due to the all permeating exhaustion and panic attacks making his muscles tense up clearly wasn't a good mix.

"You should join me for the stretching," Geralt said, frowning at his pitiful attempts.

"Not a bad idea. But you do them too early," Jaskier replied, still trying to get his back to bend. "I'm, hopefully, still asleep. I'd rather sleep at normal times if I can."

"I'll just do them again when you're awake then."

"Thanks. Let me change and we could eat at the tavern?"

The request seemed to relax Geralt. It was nice how his improving mental state was helping the Witcher too. Jaskier really hoped to shake rest of the deeper than normal depression off soon. Days were hard enough without it bringing him down even more.

For both him and Geralt.

As the door closed behind the Witcher, Jaskier slowly lifted his hands to run them along his hair with a shaky inhale. The texture was even more unfamiliar than after the first hair cut.

It didn't feel like him.

The sides were too short, almost cropped, hair gaining some length only on the top where it started to near the fringe. The back of the head was a bit patchy, cropped and longer hair mixing due to the botched attempt to cut it. Maybe he could fix it later, one snick at a time if needed.

But there were no phantom hands imitating the action.

Right now that was more important.

Maybe he would be able to grow it back to the length and style he preferred someday in the future.

Changing quickly, Jaskier followed Geralt out of the room and from there to downstairs. It didn't feel as daunting as yesterday. Perhaps he really could go outside, at least for a while. It had been far too long since the last time.

"Morning Lena," Jaskier said quietly when they reached the counter. He couldn't recall if he had actually talked with the young woman before.

"Morning Jaskier, morning Geralt," she answered with a friendly smile. "You probably want breakfast? Need anything else?"

"No thanks, breakfast is enough," Jaskier didn't know when it had happened but managing small things like ordering food had become almost easy. Here at least, with Brajan and his family. Such a change from before, not having to fight for each word even with Geralt behind him.

"Okay, I'll bring it soon," Lena nodded. As they started to turn away she added. "Hey, Jaskier. I'm glad you seem to be feeling better."

"Thanks," Jaskier wasn't sure if he was feeling embarrassed or touched by her sincerity.

Probably both.

It really was baffling how the whole family appeared to be invested in his and Geralt's well-being. It was hard to accept as a truth. Even when there was no evidence of anything else than honest kindness. Maybe they normally helped stray animals and saw something similar in them. Jaskier was sure he acted just as skittish.

Pressing his back against the wall and drumming the table with fingers, Jaskier looked at Geralt. "I think I could go see Roach. I seriously do feel better. Sleeping the whole night without interruptions did good."

"That's great," there was a promise of a smile on the Witcher's face. "After eating?"

"Yeah. I really want to get out. Feels like ages since the last time."

"Hmmm."

They fell silent as the food arrived. Eating still took far too much concentration than it had any right to. But Jaskier was determined to finish the ash and sawdust pretending to be his breakfast. It would just take a while. At least they didn't have anywhere to be.

"Want to go to the clearing to play?" Geralt asked, having finished eating long ago. "You were singing yesterday."

"Oh," Jaskier hadn't thought about the possibility, too focused on figuring out if he could get out of the door in the first place.

Without notice his drumming fingers started to use the tabletop as a fretboard, pressing notes against it.

"I'd like to. But… I don't know if I can handle the streets," Jaskier ducked his head, staring intensely at his tea. "I know they're not the busiest ones…"

"We don't have to go. But if you do want to, do you think riding would help?" Geralt was trying to meet his eyes so Jaskier lifted his face again. "Roach and I would make sure no one gets too close. You'd have more space for yourself in general on her."

"Maybe," it wasn't a bad idea. "Let's grab our things and decide at the stable?"

Jaskier wanted to know if he could even step out of the inn before committing to something more.

He really had been right about the streets being difficult. Jaskier would have liked very much to have been wrong. As it was, he clutched Roach's mane tightly, wanting to close his eyes to block everything out but needing to keep watch.

There was too much noise. Too much movement. Too many people. He couldn't keep up. Couldn't keep an eye on every possible threat.

"You okay if we pick up the pace?" Geralt asked, twisting to look at him.

Which was good since Jaskier could only nod.

"I'll lead Roach to trot," Geralt said, speeding up.

Their inconsiderate pace caused protests but Jaskier couldn't give a fuck about being an inconvenience when it got him away quicker. The moment the town left their eyesight, he made an unintelligible request to stop.

Somehow Geralt interpreted it correctly.

Half falling, half dismounting, Jaskier stumbled to the nearest tree to slide down to sit against it, placing his head between knees.

His heart was thunder and nerves alight with lightning.

"Jaskier?" Geralt crouched in front of him. "You alright?"

It was a good question. Jaskier gave a silent shrug, trying to figure the answer out.

"Might as well take a break," the Witcher announced, rising up to tie Roach to a branch before sitting next to him.

The way Geralt simply stayed with him, not commenting or hurrying was comforting. Just letting him take all the time he needed to calm his frazzled nerves, so overwrought from simply riding down a few roads. Jaskier was tempted to hit his head against the tree he was leaning against. Maybe it'd drive some sense in him. He didn't move from his hunched position for long minutes.

"Hi," Jaskier finally straightened up, pulse back to normal and feeling steadier. "Sorry about that."

"Jaskier, you haven't been outside in days and we're not in a hurry," Geralt said, sounding fed up.

Jaskier knew the constant apologies had started to frustrate the Witcher weeks ago. He just couldn't get them completely under control.

He wanted to apologize for it.

Jaskier got up to give Roach a hug and a kiss on the muzzle before untying and taking the reins to lead her. "Let's go."

Geralt walked next to him, continuing to guide them down the forest path. It didn't take very long to reach the clearing even though the going was more sedate and relaxed. It felt good to be able to properly walk around after such a long time.

"Jaskier, do my warm up stretches with me before playing," Geralt's offer sounded more like an order than a request.

"In a minute," Jaskier agreed, going to place his lute down while Geralt took care of making Roach comfortable.

Jaskier felt suddenly lost when he went to stand in front of the Witcher to make copying his movements easier. By now the routine was a familiar one even though he could count on both hands how many times he had participated in it during the years. With a shuddering breath Jaskier lifted his hands to the collar of his doublet, meaning to at least open it if not shrug it completely off to have a wider range of motion.

He couldn't go farther than the first two buttons.

Geralt made no comments about how the piece of clothing would hinder him.

"Don't force yourself to bend as far as I do," Geralt reminded him before starting on the first move.

Jaskier could tell the Witcher was moving slower than usual for his sake. Not that stretching was supposed to be fast-paced but now the pace was almost glacial. Seeing Geralt execute the movements made him even more aware how terribly stiff he was, as limber as lumber.

Before they were halfway through Jaskier was sweating through his chemise, even the light physical activity draining. He had completely forgotten some of the moves weren't only for stretching but also for strength in subtle ways. It was discouraging, having proof of how out of shape he had become. Not that it was surprising with how much time he spent laying down, unable to do more. Having rapidly lost so much weight couldn't help either.

"Jaskier, stop," this time it was an order.

"I can… continue…" Jaskier said between huffing breaths, wiping sweat off his forehead.

"No. You'll pull something," Geralt stated. "It's better to ease your way into this than force it. You're not fit."

"I fucking know I'm out of shape, Geralt. No need to rub it in," Jaskier snapped.

"Fit as in well," Geralt said, staring at him looking utterly unimpressed.

"No need to rub that in either."

Geralt just gestured for him to go to his lute. "Drink water before starting."

Jaskier did.

While making sure his whole body language radiated affrontment.

He didn't want to admit it to Geralt but taking his lute out was calming. Such a familiar, normal thing among all the upheaval. As was watching Geralt continue the stances as he fine-tuned it. When the Witcher switched to sword practice, Jaskier started his own warm up with scales and idle melodies before moving on to more complicated songs.

He was finishing yet another rendition of the ballad he was composing when Geralt finished and headed towards him. Letting the last notes fade, he focused on the Witcher. Which was a good choice since the next moment there was a waterskin flying towards him.

"Geralt!" he yelped in alarm, lifting his lute as high as he could.

"Hmmm," came the amused answer as the waterskin landed perfectly in front of Jaskier's legs.

"Warn a man next time, will you?" Jaskier huffed, deeming it safe to place the instrument on his lap and reach for the offered water.

"Wouldn't hit your lute."

"That's not a promise," Jaskier pointed out, unscrewing the cork.

"Mind if I sit next to you?" Geralt asked, completely ignoring the comment.

Since his mouth was full of water, Jaskier just nodded and patted the grass near him in a show of being comfortable with close proximity.

"Thanks," Jaskier said as soon as he was able.

"Hmmm?"

"For suggesting joining you," Jaskier specified. "I think it'll do good in the long run."

"You're welcome. You need to start doing more physical activity again," Geralt agreed. "Should help you sleep and eat too."

"Mhmm," it was Jaskier's turn to only hum. After a while he continued. "You probably wasn't listening but I'm pretty much finished with the ballad. Finally. Took embarrassingly long."

"You have been barely able to work on it," Geralt said with a reprimanding frown.

"Yes, yes," Jaskier waived it away. "Would you like to hear it?"

He was suddenly nervous about Geralt's answer. Usually it was a resolute no and then he'd play it despite the negative response. Jaskier didn't think he could do that this time.

"Sure," Geralt nodded, eyes soft and searching.

Jaskier took a few calming breaths before strumming the first notes, launching into the song he had confessed with.

_"How much does it take_  
_For a heart to break_  
_How many times can your smile_  
_Shoot through me without leaving scars_  
_How often can my words be ignored_  
_Before they stop flowing_

_Am I a ghost to you_  
_My dearest_  
_Someone to brush aside and forget_  
_Unless you need something_  
_And my foolish yearning heart_  
_Will give the world to you_

_For I never learn_

_I hope one day you see me_  
_And my aching heart_  
_Are singing for you_  
_My love, my belladonna kiss_

_I cannot leave, I cannot stay_  
_For everything reminds of you_  
_And the times we shared in dreams_  
_Under the moon and flowering tree_  
_We laid together, alone, wanting_

_For we never shared_  
_A touch_  
_A kiss_  
_Loving words or vows_

_I hope one day you see me_  
_And my aching heart_  
_Are singing for you_  
_My love, my belladonna kiss_

_I'm only a weeping willow bending before you_  
_As you move like a tempest through time_  
_Only a whistling in the wind_  
_As you let your voice ring loud and free"_

As the last chords echoed out Geralt stayed as quiet as the clearing itself, making Jaskier get more and more anxious. As his hands started to shake he placed the lute down next to him to avoid clutching the fretboard with a death grip. Hands freed, he tangled them into his beads.

"...Jaskier… I…" Geralt breathed, leaning slightly closer.

It was impossible to move. Jaskier wasn't sure if he was even breathing anymore, only waiting for Geralt to actually say something.

"I…"

Geralt should just get on with it and say he hated the song.

"Jaskier. I- I love you. Fuck," Geralt spat out.

If there had been any air in Jaskier's lungs it would have been punched out.

Instead his eyes welled up with happy tears at the unexpected words.

"I love you so much, Geralt," Jaskier sobbed, hands fluttering in between them as he didn't know what to do with them. "With all my heart and soul."

"Hmmm."

"I… Geralt…" this time it was Jaskier's turn to get tangled in his words as he too gravitated closer. "Can I kiss you? Properly."

"Yes," Geralt rasped eyes wide and filled with marvel.

He looked gorgeous.

"Are you sure?"

"Jaskier, there's nothing I'm more sure of," Geralt murmured, now close enough for their breaths to mingle.

"Please, please, don't touch me unless I tell you it's okay," Jaskier whispered, unable to keep his voice from cracking.

"Of course."

With that Jaskier gently cradled Geralt's face, simply gazing at him in wonderment through still slowly falling tears. He had fantasized of this moment for years. Only reason Jaskier knew he wasn't dreaming was that in his daydreams he wasn't crying or more than slightly afraid.

But he wanted this so, so, much.

Closing the distance, Jaskier rested his lips against Geralt's with a feather light pressure for a second before leaning half an inch back. After a heartbeat he kissed the Witcher again, more sure of himself. It didn't take long for Geralt to reciprocate, kissing slow and soft, letting Jaskier to lead.

It wasn't passionate or long.

Jaskier had never had a sweeter kiss.

Geralt would have been beyond satisfied with the fleeting moment of the barely there kiss. Jaskier leaning back in after only a second for a firmer and slightly longer one that allowed him to join in was a wonderful surprise. It felt like his world was suddenly narrowing down, consisting only of Jaskier.

Of his touch. Of his scent. Of his taste.

Nothing else mattered or existed than Jaskier.

When Jaskier broke the kiss again, Geralt had to press his hands tightly against his legs to not draw the bard in for a third one. He knew Jaskier needed to feel in control and be sure his requests would be honored, knew that doing anything to tip the balance would break Jaskier's trust in an irreparable way. Knew they both were currently keenly aware that he had the sheer strength to easily do and take anything he desired.

Geralt was sure they both also knew he would never do so.

It was incredible how Jaskier was still softly holding his face with trembling hands and staying close, not scrambling away to have distance again. Just looking at him with eyes shimmering with tears that had stopped falling, heart racing and breaths hitching. But the bard's expression was what Geralt could only describe as pure adoration.

He didn't dare to move and break the moment.

He probably should if Jaskier didn't soon.

It wouldn't do for the bard to accidentally tip himself into a panic attack due to being too distracted to notice the warning signs. After two more slow beats of Geralt's heart Jaskier withdrew just out of arm reach and pressed a hand against his chest, clearly working on getting his breathing under control again.

Good. Good.

It was so great to see the bard had finally started to act pre-emptively, trying not to let things get too overwhelming. Learning to listen to himself instead of stubbornly attempting to just push through and make everything worse instead.

After a minute or so Jaskier appeared to have gained control again. He didn't move any closer.

"Why now?" the bard asked, sounding starstruck. "I never expected to hear that. You didn't have to force yourself to say it, Geralt. I know you love me."

Fuck. Had he really made Jaskier think he'd never hear the words?

"Wanted to, have for a long time now," Geralt said sincerely before continuing, feeling foolish. "And I didn't want the song to be right. About never sharing loving words."

His answer made a bright, beautiful, smile appear on Jaskier's face.

The bard had no fucking right to be as handsome as he was.

It was distracting. Irritating. Completely unfair.

"Thank you, Geralt," Jaskier beamed, radiating love so strongly it was starting to make Geralt uncomfortable, not knowing what he was supposed to do with it.

"I love you so much, darling."

All of his thoughts stuttered to halt at the endearment. Jaskier was grinning at him in a way that made it clear the word choice had been very deliberate. Fucking bastard.

Geralt never wanted Jaskier to stop smiling like that.

"Fuck you, bard."

How romantic of him.

But if Jaskier's laugh was anything to go by, he actually had found the right words.

"I really do love you so much, Geralt. There's nothing I wouldn't do for you," Jaskier said more seriously. "You're my everything, my home, my future."

It was a sobering thought. Geralt didn't want Jaskier to do absolutely anything for him. Didn't want the bard to bend and bow, to give and give without any regard for himself. It hopefully wasn't what was meant. Geralt still couldn't shake off the cold feeling the idea brought.

"Geralt?" Jaskier inquired, sounding unsure.

Something had to have shown on his face for Jaskier to pick up on his unease.

"Nothing," Geralt shook his head, focusing again. "We should head back."

"Did I say something wrong?" Jaskier still sounded tentative. It didn't fit him.

"No," Geralt sighed and threw the waterskin to Jaskier again. "Drink. Do you want to eat something now or once we're back at the inn?"

"Inn is fine."

Leaving now seemed to be the right decision as Geralt watched Jaskier struggle with getting on Roach with legs too weak to do it properly. He really would like to give the bard a boost. Eventually Jaskier managed to drape his chest over the saddle and wiggle from there until he was sitting.

"Geralt? I don't think I can kiss you very often," Jaskier said quietly after they had been walking for a few minutes. "It's still a lot. Very much so."

"It's fine even if you won't do it ever again," Geralt assured.

"...Oh…"

"It was a nice kiss. Just don't force yourself to repeat it."

"Only nice?" Jaskier teased, perking up.

"Fucking fantastic. Happy?"

"Very."

Geralt hoped Jaskier truly was.

A pleased groan escaped Geralt as he lowered himself into the bathtub, the gently steaming water welcoming him in. It was pure indulgence, one he had never managed to curb. Admittedly, he had never tried very hard in the first place. Tilting his head to rest on the rim, Geralt closed his eyes to simply enjoy the relaxing warmth. He hadn't dared to truly soak more than very few times lately, too restless when leaving Jaskier alone.

But the bard had seemed content enough after the lunch, curling up on the bed with the poetry book and falling asleep before managing to turn a page even twice.

And Jaskier should be able to come seek help if needed.

Not from him, considering where he currently was, but from whoever would be at the counter or otherwise working at the tavern. It was a huge relief, knowing he'd be alerted almost immediately if something happened. Felt almost as if a sliver of normalcy was returning with the way he was starting to have more time.

Only thing missing was a massage, Geralt thought as he stretched.

Jaskier's hands and fingers kneading the tension out of his muscles was an almost a hedonistic experience, one that he had never expected to have, let alone turn into something that happened semi-regularly. Those strong and dexterous fingers finding the pressure points and not letting up until the muscles turned pliant and relaxed while the bard chattered about nothing and everything.

Geralt wondered how it might be now that Jaskier was quieter. Would it be just their breaths and movements creating sounds? Jaskier's hands kneading and the warm breath ghosting against his skin, the growing scent of arousal only signs of him even being there.

Shifting his hips into a more comfortable position, Geralt realized he was half hard. Opening his legs more, he started to slowly trail a hand up and down his scarred chest, each movement bringing his hand lower.

He could almost feel Jaskier pressing lips against his shoulders, trailing small kisses up to his jaw where he could turn his head and capture the bard's lips with his own. Jaskier would wind his arms around to start mapping out his chest and spreading chamomile oil, still exchanging slow kisses.

Geralt let out a small hum as his fingers rubbed against his right nipple.

But Jaskier would want him to be relaxed and content after the bath so he would trail his hand lower and lower until wrapping it around his cock.

Geralt gave another hum as he started to slowly stroke himself, getting fully hard from the first touches.

It had been a long time.

Jaskier would stop kissing him only to start whispering words of love and encouragement into his ear, unable to stay quiet as he'd speed up. His free hand would continue exploring his chest, paying close attention to his nipples.

Geralt sped up, thumbing his head and slit that would surely be glistening with precum if the bathwater didn't keep washing it away. Jaskier's words would turn filthier the closer Geralt got, telling him all about the things the bard wanted him to do to him.

Letting out a sound from deep in his chest Geralt moved his other hand to fondle his aching balls while adding a twist to the firm pumps.

Jaskier would suddenly tug at his hair hard enough to turn his head so they could lock eyes as the bard sped up even more, telling how he had imagined doing this for years, how each massage had been an exercise in self-control. How he had wanted to make Geralt come with his hands, with his mouth, with Geralt's cock buried deep in him. How each night they had been separated Jaskier had been touching himself and imagined it to be him.

By now Geralt was fucking into his fist, rhythm shot to hell. With few more jerks and the memory of Jaskier's lips on his, Geralt came with a resonating groan of pleasure.

He might not had the customary massage but Jaskier had still helped him to reach that familiar state of languid relaxation.

Jaskier got a new hair cut, so here's yet another sad and ill looking Jask. Start eating better!!!! 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Geralt said it! A KISS!!!  
> ...And my first ever porn. :'D


	69. Chapter 69

Jaskier woke up with a gasp, the nightmare already receding from his memory. He wished all of them did that instead of staying to circle around his mind, distracting and adding to the ever-present anxiety.

"You okay?" Geralt asked, startling Jaskier into sitting up and hastily observing his surroundings for threats.

Not finding anything wrong, Jaskier slumped a bit and rubbed his face tiredly. "Yeah… Yeah. Just another nightmare. I hate those so fucking much. Why do I have to have such a good imagination?"

"Makes it easier for you to write songs. They have nothing to do with reality," Geralt said, returning to cleaning his armor.

"Excuse me? They have solid foundations in your hunts. I simply choose the lyrics carefully," Jaskier announced, laying down on his stomach so he was facing the Witcher. "Talking about songs, I was thinking I might perform tomorrow. If nothing changes."

"Really?" Geralt turned to look at him again, sounding surprised.

Which was quite expected. Jaskier knew it probably seemed like a hasty decision considering how long his, yet another, breakdown had lasted.

"Yeah. I miss it. It can be really hard and make me feel like I'm only a… but… I miss it," Jaskier confessed. "I'll tell Brajan I'd like to do it when we go down for dinner."

Geralt's face lit up with the voluntary mention of eating. Well, lit up in a Geralt version which consisted of tiny softening around the eyes and even tinier twitch of lips. Jaskier felt guilty about his nonexistent appetite even though he really was doing his best to normalize it. It just wasn't going that well. It would. Eventually. Hopefully.

Grabbing the book that laid abandoned next to him, Jaskier tried to focus on the words while idly playing with the beads. Realizing he was reading the same page for the third time without retaining anything, he closed the book and chucked it away.

Jaskier was almost sure he hadn't meant to do it with enough force to make it fly off the bed, landing close to a wall.

"That bad?" Geralt asked with raised eyebrows.

"Can't concentrate," Jaskier muttered into his arms where he was hiding his face.

It felt suddenly far too big of an issue.

It was just a book.

Jaskier wanted to throw it again.

Instead of getting up to retrieve the book to do a repeat with more strength, he fumbled to dig the ring box from his pocket. Pressing hard against the designs to feel something, Jaskier started to do familiar breathing exercises. Not wanting to see Geralt's reaction to his rapid mood swing, he closed his eyes and tried to block the world out.

"Jaskier? What's wrong?"

Of course the Witcher couldn't let him be.

"Hey. Talk to me."

"Fuck off," Jaskier snapped before thinking.

"What the hell?" Geralt rumbled.

"Oh no, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to say that," Jaskier back pedaled, lifting his face to meet the Witcher's eyes. "Honestly."

"Are you angry at the book?" Geralt sounded confused.

Which was fair. Jaskier too was confused at his own reaction. "No. Yes. I don't know. More at myself."

"Why?"

"Can't concentrate," Jaskier repeated, letting his forehead thunk against the mattress.

"And?" Geralt didn't seem to be any closer to understanding.

"It's fucking frustrating. It's not only reading. It's everything. My brain is just fog, everything impossible to grasp," Jaskier was pretty sure he was whining at this point.

"Hmm..."

Yep. Geralt was still just as confused.

Too bad. He couldn't, hah, concentrate on figuring out a better explanation. Instead Jaskier changed the topic. "Is it dinner time yet?"

"It's pretty early but we can go eat if you want," Geralt answered with a frown.

"Great! Let's go," Jaskier said, practically launching himself out of the bed. It probably wouldn't help at all.

It didn't.

Jaskier wasn't exactly sure what he did after informing Hanna about performing tomorrow and asking her to tell Brajan. He knew he had dinner. Possibly talked with Geralt. Everything else was vague.

It would have been nice to have had a pleasant evening after the amazing surprise of Geralt telling him with clear words that he was loved. After sharing their first kiss.

Apparently he wasn't meant to have that many good things.

It was the next noon and Jaskier had finally finished the first chapter of the book. It could be better. But it also could be much worse. Closing the book and taking a steadying breath Jaskier turned to look at Geralt.

"I'd like to try going close to a bathtub," Jaskier said, knowing the Witcher could hear him without any problems through the meditation.

Geralt's eyes snapped open at the words before narrowing. "What?"

"Me. Bathtub. Working on it," Jaskier was well aware his voice was fainter than he wanted it to be. Just the thought of getting close to one was still frightening. "It's been a long time since I last tried."

"It hasn't been long since your breakdown," Geralt challenged.

Jaskier knew he was doing it out of concern. Didn't make it any less vexing. "I haven't had a panic attack today. Haven't even felt more anxious than usual. That's the criteria we agreed on, Geralt."

The Witcher stayed stubbornly silent, working his jaw. Trying to keep some comment in probably.

"I'm going to do this. Will you help me?" Jaskier asked.

He really hoped Geralt would come with him.

"Fine," Geralt growled after a moment, making clear what he thought about the plan.

"Thank you, Geralt," Jaskier said sincerely and walked to the door. "After you."

Maybe he should make a goal of stepping out of rooms before Geralt. It wasn't as if going first was any more dangerous than following. But right now Jaskier was content to walk behind the Witcher like usual, anxiety churning badly enough like this. He wasn't sure if he was glad or not that Brajan was behind the counter when they arrived downstairs. The innkeeper would most likely realize what his request meant. Would have some inkling at least.

"Hello, Jaskier, Geralt. Something I can do for you?" Brajan greeted them with a smile that dimmed the longer it took Jaskier to answer.

Shaking himself, Jaskier finally opened his mouth. "I… I'd like… Is the bath free? Could we use it for a while? You don't have to fill it."

"It is. You can go there even if you're not going… to… bathe…" Brajan nodded with a puzzled expression that melted into understanding the longer he talked.

"Do you need anything else than time?" Brajan asked, eyes searching. "You can also use the employees only passages to go to our kitchen afterwards if you'd rather avoid being seen by customers."

"Thank you," Jaskier said taken aback. "That's… That would be wonderful."

"If someone requests a bath I'll come ask you to leave but otherwise take all the time you need, okay," Brajan frowned, looking concerned. "I hope everything goes well."

That made all three of them.

"Geralt, you know where the bath is so I don't have to come show you," the innkeeper finished, giving Jaskier one more worried look.

"Hmmm," Geralt confirmed and started to lead the way.

Jaskier could feel his pulse pick up as they arrived in front of the bathroom door. It really had been a long time since he had attempted this. It didn't feel any easier.

"...Geralt….?" Jaskier asked in a small voice, offering his hand.

"We'll leave the moment you want to. Or if I deem you're starting to hurt yourself with this," Geralt informed him sternly, gently taking his hand before opening the door and leading him in.

It was just as unremarkable room as one could expect of an inn's bath. Made even less remarkable by the empty tub.

It was a frightening scene.

"Jaskier, you're safe," Geralt's voice was a steady counterpoint to the way Jaskier felt like he was starting to drown in surging anxiety.

"I know," Jaskier whispered, unable to make a louder sound as he stared at the empty bathtub. "I know."

Tightening his grip on Geralt, Jaskier took few tiny steps forward and tangled his other hand into his bead necklace. The sounds and motions of it were familiar by now, something he could predict. Something he hadn't worn during the feast. Something completely different from before. It had no connection to Marden. It didn't help him keep tears born of fear away.

"Jaskier, you're safe at the inn. With me," Geralt kept speaking, kept helping him stay grounded.

"...Yeah," Jaskier acknowledged the Witcher, shuffling a little bit forward.

His chest was cold and hurting. Fingers tingly. Breaths hard to achieve. Every other blink the bathtub seemed to be brimming with water. One more step and Jaskier felt like he was suddenly hit with unadulterated terror.

"No, no, no," he chanted, taking stumbling steps backwards.

"Jaskier? Let's leave."

Leave. Yes. He wanted to leave.

Jaskier tried to agree only to find he couldn't get words out anymore, rising panic stealing them from his lips. He needed to tell Geralt. Needed to. Needed.

"You're safe, Jaskier. And I'm here. It's safe."

It wasn't safe.

But Geralt would do his best to protect him. Would help him to get out, help him to stay on his shaking legs and take steps away from the water filled- no, empty, it was empty, bathtub. It was empty and no one was coercing him to strip.

Geralt was the only one here with him.

Geralt would never force him to do that.

But they needed to get away from here.

"...G-Ger…"

"Two more steps and we're out, Jaskier."

It was a good plan. Geralt seemed to know where they were going. Maybe there would be oxygen to breathe in.

"Don't stop now, keep walking. We're almost at the kitchen. Walk and breathe, okay."

Jaskier wasn't sure if a kitchen would have air but anywhere was better than the bathroom.

Eons later Geralt helped him to lower himself into a chair. Where the Witcher produced it from, Jaskier wasn't completely sure. Maybe they were at the kitchen. But it was a sign they were safe again.

"Jaskier, you're safe."

He knew he was.

"Take slow breaths. Slow and calm. In and out."

Jaskier wished it was that easy.

"No one will hurt you, Jaskier. You're safe. Completely safe."

His lungs didn't burn as badly.

His eyes did burn with tears.

"...Ge… lt…" Jaskier wheezed.

"I'm here. You're safe. Safe at the inn," Geralt soothed, hand warm in Jaskier's grip.

There was air. It was safe. As safe as anywhere was at least. Geralt was here, still holding his hand and staying. Not leaving, not abandoning him.

"...Hi…" Jaskier rasped, lifting his head to look at the Witcher kneeling in front of him.

"Back with me?" Geralt sighed, sounding relieved.

"...Yeah. That went… better than I expected," Jaskier said, letting go of his beads to try wiping tears away.

"Hm."

"No flashbacks. Just a panic attack," Jaskier defended himself even as he still couldn't calm down.

"I'll get you water," Geralt stated, getting up to look around.

Jaskier felt cold without the Witcher's hand in his. Needing something else to focus on he started fidgeting with the beads again, tangling them around his fingers. He could hear Geralt pouring water into a mug behind him.

"Oh. Sorry. I didn't know you'd be here."

A woman's voice made Jaskier startle and accidentally yank his beads hard enough for the cord to snap. His heart was suddenly replaced with freezing water. There was nothing he could do but watch as the beads flew, hitting the floor loudly and scattering everywhere. Realizing the keening noise accompanying the skittering beads was from him, Jaskier slapped both hands over his mouth to stifle it. He was bending down unwillingly, body curling defensively.

"What the fuck?" Geralt snarled, moving to stand in between him and the woman.

"I- I'm sorry! Please, I didn't mean to scare you," she said hastily, voice high and nervous. "I'm so sorry!"

Nervous.

Kitchen.

Beads.

Olga.

Jaskier nudged Geralt's boot with his own, not knowing how else to draw the Witcher's attention to himself. He didn't have permission to touch and opening his mouth wouldn't result in words.

"Jaskier?" Geralt glanced at him immediately.

Shaking his head Jaskier hoped Geralt would understand. As the Witcher's stance didn't relax, he dared to remove one of his hands from his mouth to gesture Geralt to stand down and back away. The action let a small embarrassing whine escape his lips but since Geralt moved to squat next to him instead of being ready to attack, it was worth it.

Jaskier wished he was able to do something else than keep crying.

It had been just a fucking bead necklace, not the end of the world.

Somehow it felt like it.

"I really am so sorry for this. I didn't mean to startle you," Olga tried again, sounding anxious. "Or cause your beads to break, Jaskier."

Jaskier really wanted to tell her it was alright. She was obviously feeling horrible if her tone was anything to go by. But he couldn't even make himself to sit straight, let alone comfort her.

"Breath," Geralt coaxed, voice deep and controlled. "Just breath. Everything is fine."

It was. His body and emotions just weren't receiving the memo.

"Can I come closer?" Olga asked hesitantly.

Jaskier gave a jerky nod, trusting Geralt to do something if anything was wrong. He still couldn't bring himself to look up. Slow steps and soft clinking of jewelry stopped at a little distance away from him.

"Geralt, could you give this to him?"

"Jaskier, hold out your hand," Geralt said, leaning forward. Probably to take whatever was offered.

Slowly Jaskier moved a hand to do so, as close to pleased as he currently could get when the action didn't make more sounds escape.

"Here," Geralt hummed, placing what felt like a beaded necklace onto his waiting palm.

It was ridiculous how much it helped to have something to tangle his hands in. To be able to press his fingertips against the beads hard enough to feel any imperfections of the wood. To know he hadn't used them during everything.

"Do you mind if I take care of a couple of things?" Olga asked, sounding unsure if she was welcome in her own home.

Focusing on breathing, Jaskier shook his head. She had all the right to be here. He was the one intruding, needed to calm down so they could leave and let Olga do whatever she wanted in peace. Actually, calming down wasn't necessary. Jaskier was almost, kind of, sure his legs would support him.

"Sit down," Geralt ordered him the moment Jaskier moved to stand up.

Jaskier shook his head again, stood up and opened his eyes to see where to place Olga's necklace down.

"Jaskier, please. You don't have to leave," Olga entreated anxiously. "Honestly. I'll be quick. Out of your hair soon."

"You both are being ridiculous," Geralt grumbled. "No one needs to go. This is your fucking home, Olga. Jaskier, we have Brajan's permission to be here. So sit your skinny ass back down right now and keep breathing."

Jaskier did.

Olga kept puttering around.

"...I'm sor-" Jaskier started after a while, having caught his breath and tears having dried. He didn't get to finish as Geralt growled a warning. So he tried again, turning to Olga and offered the beads back. "...Thank you. For lending these."

Olga held her palm up under his hand so he could simply drop the necklace, neatly avoiding any contact. "You're welcome. And I really am sorry for startling you. Don't worry about cleaning up, I'll gather the beads."

Jaskier felt suddenly awful for not having spared a thought to how the kitchen floor was now full of scattered beads, having been too swept up in his own upset.

"You don't have to. I'll do it," Jaskier protested. He was the one who had caused the mess.

"No, it was my fault you broke them. I'll take care of it," Olga shook her head.

"It wasn't. I'll pick them up."

"You're guests. It's not-"

This time it was Olga who didn't get to finish as Geralt gave an exasperated groan. "For fucks sake, clean them up together."

"Oh."

"Oh."

"Umm, I'll bring you a bowl to put the beads in," Olga said, moving to a cupboard.

Taking the bowl carefully, Jaskier kneeled on the floor and started gathering the beads around him, Olga mirroring him on the other side of the room. Occasionally Geralt nudged beads towards him with his boots, otherwise standing still and watching. It was an awkward silence that filled the kitchen.

Hearing footsteps Jaskier lifted his head to look up just in time to see Zofia entering with a fussing baby in her arms.

"Did something happen I should know about?" she asked surprised by the scene in front of her.

"Nothing, mom," Olga said, picking up the last few beads on her side of the kitchen.

"Alright then. Olga, Michal is hungry. You should nurse him," Zofia advised, giving the baby to her.

"I'm sorry I kept you away from him, Olga," Jaskier apologized, feeling guilty.

"Michal woke just up. Olga knows how to take care of him. You don't have to worry about interfering or anything, Jaskier," Zofia said gently.

"We'll leave you alone now," Jaskier shook his head, placing the now full bowl on the table. "Thank you for letting us stay for a while."

"Of course. I don't mind and dad gave you permission," Olga assured him absently, focusing on Michal.

"Still, thank you," Jaskier repeated, moving to follow Geralt out of the room.

Having had a chance to calm down before walking back to their room had truly helped. Not that Jaskier had very clear memories of those short trips but he was well aware how much attention he must have garnered during them. But this time they didn't draw any more attention to themselves than usually.

"That didn't go as I thought it would," Jaskier stated, looping a new beaded necklace around his neck after heading straight to the nightstand where he had placed them.

"Hm," Geralt hummed, sounding displeased.

Not that it was surprising. Jaskier knew the Witcher didn't like it at all when he tried to confront his triggers head on. But he needed to do it. He couldn't let them define and limit the rest of his life. He fucking refused to never be able to take a bath again.

"Thank you for buying me spare beads, Geralt. It's silly but wearing them helps. They're like a concrete proof of… not being with Marden anymore," Jaskier continued quietly. "Didn't have them back then. So I can't be there. And I can focus nervous energy on them instead of my nails."

"If it helps, it helps. Nothing silly about it," Geralt stated decisively. "And you're welcome."

"Do you think I should actually just get used to being in a room with a bathtub instead of trying to get close to one? For now, I mean. Slowly work my way up to that," Jaskier asked, avoiding looking at the Witcher.

The idea of not doing anything else than stand close to a door and stare at the bathtub felt like a defeat. Made him feel fucking weak, staying so terrified of a harmless object even after all the weeks that had passed. He knew, _knew_ , there was nothing to be afraid of, that nothing would happen to him just because he went near to a tub. Another part of him was convinced that everything would go to hell the moment he would do so.

"That's a good plan," Geralt approved. "You need to realize that you can't do everything at once. Things will take time."

"Mm," Jaskier didn't want them to. He just wanted things to go back to how they had been.

"You're not a broken wagon wheel, Jaskier. Don't expect things to be as simple as fixing one."

"I don't know how to fix even a wheel," Jaskier grumbled.

"I do. Not that it matters since you're not an object," Geralt stated. "Jaskier, you're doing better. You'll keep getting better."

"Sure," Jaskier sighed resigned.

"You will."

"Right then. Roach. She needs to get out," Jaskier changed the topic, not wanting to hear more of the optimistic words. "You should take care of her. I'm going to nap again so she'll be much better company."

"Want me to stay until you fall asleep?" Geralt asked casually, like there was nothing weird about it.

"...Yeah…" it'd be futile to pretend having the Witcher with him wouldn't help.

It seemed to Jaskier like all of Brajan's family was trying to find something to do at the tavern as he rose up and hefted his lute. Taking the few steps away from Geralt, he swallowed once before starting his customary introduction.

It felt good to be able to play again after a week of unplanned break. Didn't matter that his nerves were working overtime, trying to draw attention to nonexistent threats. Jaskier knew there was no reason for him to tense up the moment someone got up or moved even slightly. It was exhausting. And got in the way of delivering an actually good performance, making him give just an adequate one. At least his audience seemed to be enjoying themselves, drunk enough not to care about the subpar quality.

Taking yet another sweeping look around the tavern, Jaskier noticed Lena clearing empty tankards from a table with a polite smile and shaking her head at something one of the men sitting around it said. Eyes narrowing, Jaskier unconsciously took few steps closer, not hearing the words.

He didn't have to.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Jaskier yelled the second arms circled Lena's waist to draw her into the customer's lap, shrugging his lute off and sprinting to her side.

Startled, the man let his arms fall and Lena stepped neatly out of the reach. Not giving him a chance to do anything else, Jaskier grabbed the man's lapels and yanked him half off the chair.

"How dare you?" Jaskier snarled, kicking the chair hard enough to make it slide backwards and dragged the man rest of the way into a mostly standing position. "How dare you touch her?"

"I'll fucking castrate and kill you if you lay a single finger on her again," Jaskier hissed teeth bared and grip tightening, not caring about anything going on around him. "I'll feed you your own bloody cock should you touch anyone without their consent, ever, you fucking bastard."

"You're insane," the man rasped eyes wide and scared, trying to take hold of Jaskier's wrists in an attempt to get free.

Without thinking Jaskier let go of the man the moment he was touched and punched him square on the mouth.

"Jaskier!"

He wasn't sure who had shouted his name, multiple voices warring against each other. But the next second Geralt was standing in front of him.

"Jaskier, calm down and back off," Geralt said evenly.

 _"He touched Lena,"_ Jaskier growled, trying to get past Geralt to the man who was scrambling up with the help of his friends.

"She's fine," Geralt stepped to block the way again.

"I really am," Lena assured, coming to stand next to the Witcher. "I'm not hurt or anything."

"That bastard tried to-"

"Get out," Brajan's steely voice cut through all the noise, making Jaskier freeze in place.

It was like being submerged in ice cold water, realizing he had almost re-created the scene from the previous inn they had stayed at. Realizing he had practically spat on the goodwill Brajan had showed them, attacking a customer.

Jaskier couldn't bring himself to regret having hit the man.

He did regret having indirectly hurt Brajan.

Jaskier took a few stumbling steps backwards, trying to reorient himself enough to find the door. The innkeeper would let Geralt gather their things before following him out, wouldn't he?

"Not you, Jaskier," Brajan said coolly, walking past him to the bleeding customer. Staring at the man Brajan pointed at the front door. "You, out. I don't know if this is your first time here but I also do not care. The barmaids, anyone working here, are off limits. You don't make advances and definitely do not touch them unless they tell you it's okay. I don't want to see you here for at least a month. Or ever if you don't know how to start acting decently."

As the bleeding man and his company headed out, Brajan turned around and started to march towards the backroom. "Jaskier, Geralt, Lena, come."

Jaskier let himself be herded after him by Geralt and Lena, still disoriented and so tightly wound up he felt like a lute string about to snap. It was for the best someone else was taking care of the navigating.

"Explain," Brajan said once they were away from curious patrons. "I didn't see what happened. Only heard your comments."

"I was clearing a table when that man suggested _alternative_ ways to spend the night. I didn't agree and he tried to pull me into his lap. Jaskier noticed and made it very clear that's not acceptable," Lena reported promptly and matter of fact, looking completely unruffled.

Jaskier wondered vaguely if this was some sort of routine. Everything was feeling a bit vague. Maybe he should sit down.

"I should have realized to inform you too Jaskier that I don't stand for violence here," Brajan acknowledged ruefully.

Sitting down sounded like a better and better idea.

"But thank you for defending Lena. You took it too far but what's done is done and I can't blame you for reacting so strongly," Brajan sighed, tension leaving his shoulders.

"Jaskier? Sit down," Geralt cut the innkeeper off.

"Gladly," Jaskier mumbled, plopping down on the floor right where he was. The room was starting to sway and spin.

"Are you alright?" Lena asked sounding worried, prompting Jaskier to give her a thumbs up while focusing on breathing deeply and slowly through his nose and out of his mouth.

"Adrenaline leaving, probably," Geralt said simply, crouching down to be on the same level as Jaskier. "Jaskier, stay still for a while. Things should even out soon."

"Good plan," Jaskier nodded and promptly regretted moving his head as a flash of nausea made itself known, but that thankfully disappeared as quickly as it had hit.

"Lena, could you get water for Jaskier?" Brajan requested, frowning in concern.

"Of course," she agreed and hurried to the kitchen and back before returning to the tavern.

"Right. I have two hard rules here: no violence and no harassment," Brajan started once Jaskier had taken a few sips. "You did have good reasons for acting as you did, Jaskier. But don't repeat it ever again. Otherwise I will have to ask you to leave. You need to control yourself."

Be it triggered reaction or not, Jaskier couldn't give a shit. He was ready to stab anyone acting like that asshole had.

Not that he would tell the innkeeper.

"I'll let this one slide but consider this as your only warning," Brajan said, sounding both sorry and completely serious.

"Thank you. I'll do my utmost to make sure that won't happen again," Jaskier assured, glad his voice didn't break. "I think I shouldn't continue playing if that's okay…?"

"Probably for the best," the innkeeper agreed before softening his tone. "Are you alright, Jaskier? Sorry I didn't ask earlier."

"I'm fine,"Jaskier said and turned to look at Geralt. "Could we go upstairs?"

"Of course. Can you walk?" Geralt asked, standing up.

It took some effort to get up but Jaskier was pleased to find his legs were relatively steady. He most likely wouldn't end up faceplanting while going up the stairs.

"I'm really sorry for causing you problems, Brajan," Jaskier apologized as he passed the innkeeper.

But not for punching the fucker, he added silently.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And with this I shall leave you for a while! Aka, taking a week off so the next update will be on Monday, 20th. See ya then! <3


	70. Chapter 70

Geralt was quite sure seeing Jaskier punch someone shouldn't have been as hot as it had. But it turned out to be hard to stop thinking about it as he watched Jaskier slowly eat breakfast.

There had been such fire in the bard.

He had missed seeing it.

Maybe it'd start resurfacing more.

"We're not moving until you've finished," Geralt reminded Jaskier, noticing the bard stop yet again.

"I know," Jaskier huffed and stabbed the porridge with his spoon. What it was meant to achieve, Geralt had no idea.

Nor did he have time to contemplate as both he and Jaskier tensed up simultaneously as unfamiliar middle-aged man started walking towards them. Geralt had a sinking feeling that he knew the reason for being approached.

"You're a Witcher, aren't you? I have a job for you," the man said nervously but without preamble, confirming Geralt's hunch.

"Hmmm?" Geralt asked, glancing at still and silent Jaskier.

"Something has been digging graves open, eating the corpses," the man explained, looking fearful and disgusted in equal measures.

"A necrophage," Geralt nodded. "I need more information to know which one."

"You'll take the job? I can pay."

Geralt didn't want to. But this was his duty, the reason he existed. "Yes."

"Oh, that's a relief. Can we leave right now? It'll take traveling until nightfall to arrive home. This has been happening in our small family graveyard," the man asked and added. "It's a remote farm, been in the family for some time. Easier to have a private one than carry bodies."

Well, fuck.

That wouldn't be a quick there and back hunt.

Geralt looked at Jaskier again. The bard was staring at the table, fighting to keep his expression neutral and clutching the spoon hard enough for his knuckles to turn white. Not good. Jaskier wasn't ready to stay alone for that long even if he had started to truly trust the innkeeper and his family, feeling safe with them. But Jaskier also wasn't fit enough to accompany him on a hunt. In any meaning of the word.

"Give me an hour before meeting at the stable," Geralt grunted, rising up without waiting for an answer and gestured Jaskier to follow.

Talking about this was more important than a half eaten breakfast.

Jaskier stayed completely silent until Geralt closed their door. Only then did the bard look at him, expression stricken.

"I can't be alone for that long, Geralt. I can't," Jaskier pleaded, blinking rapidly to keep threatening tears away. "Please. I- I wish I could. But I _can't_."

"Jaskier, we both know you can't come hunting with me. It'd be a fucking death sentence to you. You don't have the strength or stamina to follow me or get away from a monster, let alone defend yourself. And what if you had a panic attack?" Geralt argued. He couldn't endanger Jaskier like that. Wouldn't.

"We both also know I'll fall into fucking pieces if I'm separated from you for few days. I hate being this dependent on you, I really do. It's unhealthy," Jaskier admitted, starting to pace around and raking his nails against his scalp anxiously. "But I can't help it. I'm too fucking paranoid something will happen, that someone will notice how easy mark I am and take advantage of it. To finish what was started."

"Jaskier, beads," Geralt reminded quickly, knowing the bard was about to start biting his nails and wanting to also stop the scratching.

"Right, right," Jaskier nodded, tangling both of his hands into the necklace. "I can't do it, I can't stay here and wait."

"Can you stay alone at the farm, surrounded by who knows how many strangers while I'm hunting?" Geralt asked unconvinced. "It's the only third option."

"I don't know," Jaskier said honestly. "But it's better than waiting here."

"Is it?"

"Yes. I'll just go sit with chickens or something if it's too much. They'll definitely have livestock. And you might not need Roach."

Geralt was briefly hit with a ridiculous image of the bard roosting with chickens before focusing on the problem in hand.

"Are you sure? You'd have support here," Geralt checked again. He didn't want to let Jaskier out of his sight for such a long time period but staying would be the safest option.

"Not enough," Jaskier disagreed bluntly. "I will not burden Brajan or his family like that. I'm a fucking full time job, a demanding and unpleasant one. Bad enough I cling onto you."

Geralt clenched his jaw at the self-deprecating comment, wanting to shake the thought out of Jaskier's head.

"You're not," he forced his tone to stay even. "Start packing, you're coming. But Jaskier, fucking listen to me if I warn you about something. Be it your own actions or something external. You can't act recklessly with your well-being."

"I'll do my best," Jaskier promised, appearing calmer now that he knew he wouldn't be staying behind.

Not what Geralt wanted to hear but he did appreciate the honesty.

It didn't take them long to finish packing everything up and head down to return the keys. Geralt could see from the other side of the room how Hanna's eyes widened at the sight of them.

"Are you leaving?" she asked surprised.

"Yeah, we-" Jaskier didn't get to finish as Hanna told them not to move an inch and ran into the backrooms.

Geralt could hear her telling everyone they were leaving as she ran around, causing the whole family to suddenly arrive to the tavern within two minutes. Anja and Ella even looked like they had been still sleeping until she had went to tell them when they stumbled in.

This was ridiculous.

Glance at Jaskier confirmed that the bard too was thrown.

"You can't leave! Jaskier, you promised to finish the Mud Wolf song and you haven't yet," Anja declared, trying in vain to keep hair out of her eyes.

"Uhhhh," Jaskier clearly didn't know how to act.

"Is this about last night?" Brajan asked with a worried frown. "You're more than welcome to stay. I'm sorry if I made it sound otherwise."

"Got a contract," Geralt said simply, handing their keys to the innkeeper.

"Ah," Brajan nodded, looking relieved. "Will you be returning?"

"I'd like to," Jaskier murmured, careful to avoid looking at anyone.

No question about what they'd do afterwards in that case. "Yes."

"I'm glad. You'll always be welcome here," Brajan smiled, his family echoing the sentiment.

Geralt had no fucking idea what he was supposed to do with that.

It was strange traveling with someone else than only Geralt.

Witold, as the farmer had introduced himself, was driving a mule pulled cart loaded with several full sacks and leading them down a road while Jaskier and Geralt walked with Roach slightly behind. The mare was once again a comforting presence as Jaskier guided her, occasionally petting the silky neck or fiddling with the mane. Witold had offered him to hop on the cart but simply shrugged when he had silently shaken his head and started walking with Geralt and Roach blocking him from sight.

Jaskier really wished his legs weren't already getting tired. It felt pathetic, being about to lag when they had traveled barely a couple of hours. He'd be beyond exhausted once they'd reach their destination whether or not he'd ride Roach for most of the time. Or simply collapse before reaching the farm.

"Jaskier, you should get on the cart," Geralt said quietly enough for Witold not to hear.

He should have known the Witcher would also reach the same conclusion.

"No," Jaskier muttered, starting to scratch Roach once again.

"It's safe. And I'll walk next to it," Geralt assured. "There's no reason for you to tire yourself out."

Jaskier continued walking silently for a while before sighing in defeat, not wanting to slow them down. "Fine."

"Witold, stop," Geralt called out. "Jaskier will get on."

"Not much space but try to make yourself comfortable," Witold said as Jaskier climbed in.

"...Thank you," Jaskier mumbled, responding verbally for the first time to being addressed by the farmer.

"Here," Geralt handed the weighted blanket he quickly retrieved to Jaskier.

Thanking him Jaskier drew it around himself and leaned against the tail board, trying to get as far from Witold as possible.

"Everything is alright," Geralt whispered as they began moving again, coming to walk next to the cart as promised.

"Mhmmm," Jaskier couldn't bring himself to form actual words.

Instead he just focused on breathing and convincing himself that being so close to a stranger was safe. His toes would touch the coach Witold was sitting on if he'd stretch his legs.

He didn't.

But he did uncurl for a moment to try arranging the sacks into a barrier between him and the farmer. It didn't work very well.

Jaskier had to admit that getting on the cart had been the right decision as they traveled without a break. He wouldn't have been able to go on without stopping for even half of the time had he been walking or riding. But it was absolutely ridiculous how Geralt was taking advantage of his method of transportation, periodically offering him water and something to snack on. Eventually the monotony, the rocking of the cart and knowledge that Geralt was guarding him lulled Jaskier into dozing on and off.

It was the stopping of the cart that woke him up. Jerking up to sit properly Jaskier looked around frantically, trying to figure out why they weren't moving anymore.

"Lunch," Geralt informed him, cutting the worrying short. After Jaskier had climbed down, the Witcher gave him the reins. "Take care of Roach."

"Come on, sweetheart," Jaskier said, delighted to notice Geralt freeze for a second at the pet name before realizing it was for Roach.

By the time Jaskier left the mare to her water Geralt had dug up a cold lunch out of their provisions and settled a bit away from Witold. It was a relief how little interest the farmer seemed to have in them. Most likely he bought into all the stories painting Witchers as terrifying bogeymen and a silent bard traveling with one wasn't worth the risk of getting mixed in. While the reason could be better, Jaskier was perfectly happy with being ignored.

"How many residents?" Geralt asked suddenly, looking at Witold.

"What?" the farmer startled. When Geralt didn't say anything else he answered, sounding suspicious. "Eleven. Me, my wife and our children. And our two oldest sons have families."

Well. That was far more people than expected. It made a shiver of unease run down Jaskier's spine.

"One or multiple houses? What about outbuildings?" Geralt continued.

"Two houses. Several outbuildings for animals and farm equipment. Why do you want to know?" Witold said defensively.

"How many graves in total, counting the three open ones?"

"I don't know. Seven, eight?"

"Hmmm."

"Why?" Witold demanded again.

The expression on Geralt's face told Jaskier he wasn't in the mood for explaining.

"Necrophages like human corpses," Jaskier said quietly, regretting bringing attention to himself the moment he opened his mouth. "More rotten the better. Slightly safer for you if there's still those available."

Jaskier could feel the eyes of both of his traveling companions focus on him. He didn't look up, just hunched into himself a bit more. He should have stayed silent. Not make the farmer think about his presence. It would have been safer like that.

"And if there isn't?" Witold asked nervously.

"It'll start actively hunt and feed on you," Geralt stated.

"...Oh.."

Jaskier really hoped the necrophage hadn't yet eaten everything. And if Witold's family had any sense, they hadn't been traipsing around in the dark. While not rotten and rancid they'd still be delicious to the monster. Wouldn't matter if there still were unopened graves, presented an opportunity it would attack.

"Let's continue," Witold said briskly and stood up, clearly disturbed by the idea.

Noticing Geralt opening his mouth but not moving, Jaskier jumped up. "Yes. Let's."

Jaskier was grateful Geralt didn't protest and only glared at him. He didn't want to be the reason for slowing them down. He wasn't sure he could bear it if someone had been eaten little before they arrived, their travel time prolonged by his weakness.

"Can I hop on again?" Jaskier asked nervously, walking to stand next to the cart.

"Be my guest," Witold nodded, checking his mule's tack.

"Thank you," Jaskier said and climbed in. It would have been nice to stretch his legs but this way they wouldn't have to stop briefly in an hour or so. He could walk around for a bit later.

When his slow steps weren't literally a matter of life and death.

It was already getting closer to the twilight hours when they finally arrived at the farm, although there were a few lanterns already lighting up the yard. It was very similar to what Geralt had imagined it'd be. Once you had seen one, you had seen the most.

When Witold stopped in front of one of the outbuildings, he dismounted Roach and watched Jaskier climb down from the cart. Geralt couldn't stop himself from briefly grinding his teeth as he watched the bard sigh tiredly and lean against the cart, folding the blanket. Jaskier had stayed almost all the time on the cart yet there he was, clearly exhausted just from the changing sceneries and proximity to a stranger. At least he hadn't gotten a panic attack from it.

Geralt didn't dare to hope it'd stay like that.

As the farmer opened doors to what appeared to be a stable two young men exited the main building, calling out greetings to their father.

"Who are you?" one of them asked, clearly surprised that their father had company.

Apparently Witold hadn't come to the town to specifically hire a Witcher that had resided there for a while.

"A Witcher. He's here to take care of the monster eating the corpses," Witold answered before adding. "And a bard accompanying him."

"Ah. That's… good."

"Is there space for Roach?" Geralt asked, ignoring the introduction going on.

"Not much but she should fit," Witold nodded, leading his now unhitched mule inside. Pointing at the back of the stable he continued. "There's no free stalls but you can tie her there."

Geralt followed the farmer in without a word, Jaskier joining him.

"Everything alright?" Geralt asked the bard quietly as they tended to Roach.

"Yeah. Things are still okay," Jaskier answered even quieter, switching Roach's bridle to a halter and a lead to make her stay more comfortable. After making sure the mare could reach the floor to eat and drink, Jaskier closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against Roach's neck. "I'm still okay."

To Geralt he didn't look like it but everything considered it probably was true. Jaskier's current okay was far different from before after all.

"Good."

"Do you want to come inside or…?" Witold asked hesitantly, done with tending to the mule.

"Yes," it was time to make Jaskier's stay as comfortable as possible.

Which would be much harder.

The big kitchen they were led to was brightly lit with candles and most of Witold's family milling around. The way Jaskier tensed up didn't escape Geralt's notice. He would have liked to offer to hold hands but knew he'd be refused. The fact that it definitely wouldn't have fit the image of monster hunting Witchers could go to hell. Jaskier was far more important.

Everyone fell silent at the sight of them. Him. The scared looks didn't leave space for guessing what was so shocking even though they definitely had been warned in advance since both sons were sitting at the table.

Clearing his throat, Witold gestured to both him and Jaskier. "I hired a Witcher. He said a necrofa- necroha-"

"Necrophage," Geralt corrected blandly.

"A necrophage has been opening the graves. And that it also eats living humans," Witold continued grimly. "He'll kill it."

Aside from worried murmurs and restless movements no one offered any opinions.

"His companion is a bard," the farmer added, taking a seat and gesturing them to do the same.

"...Do you want dinner?" a woman Geralt guessed to be Witold's wife asked nervously as she placed a full plate in front of her husband.

"Yes," Geralt said before Jaskier would even think of refusing. The bard better eat at least a little despite frayed nerves.

Jaskier stayed silent, keeping his eyes down and fidgeting with his beads. Geralt could easily hear how fast his heart was beating. But breaths were staying controlled so he didn't bring it up. To quote Jaskier himself, the bard was still okay.

Aside from Geralt asking for more details about the graveyard and the surrounding areas the dinner was a quiet affair. Most of the family members even left quickly, too uncomfortable to share space with him.

Good. Less people the better.

"Is there a place where Jaskier can sleep?" Geralt asked, having gotten all the information he needed and giving up on the bard managing more than the few bites he had eaten.

Exchanging a quick look with her husband Maja nodded. "I'll bring spare bedding to the common room."

"Hmmm," apparently they didn't trust Jaskier stay without keeping an eye on him. Definitely not the best arrangement for the bard but there wasn't much to be done about it.

Jaskier didn't say anything.

"Follow me," Witold said, rising up.

As they reached the common room Jaskier headed straight to the farthest corner to sit on the floor, still quiet and avoiding looking at anyone. Not good. The behavior was seriously starting to worry Geralt.

"Right. Make yourself comfortable," Witold said bemused by the unusual behavior.

The farmer should fuck off. At least stop staring.

"Jaskier, are you okay?" Geralt whispered, kneeling in front of the bard. Getting only a nod as an answer, Geralt prompted him to speak. "Words, Jaskier, words. Talk to me."

"...I'm fine," Jaskier said faintly, sounding anything but fine.

"Don't lie to me. How bad is it?" Geralt rebutted, making sure to keep his voice low enough for the farmer not to hear.

"Manageable," Jaskier shrugged.

Which didn't tell much.

"Anything I can do?" Geralt asked, getting only another shrug in answer.

With a heavy sigh he moved Jaskier's saddlebag next to the bard and unattached the weighted blanket from it again, not knowing what else to do. Leaving Jaskier here alone felt like a fucking terrible idea but there were no alternatives. Letting him tag along was a fucking deadly idea.

It didn't take long for Maja to return with the bedding, prompting Geralt to get up and take them from her. One less interaction for Jaskier to get through. Far too soon Geralt had absolutely no excuse to stay longer.

Kneeling back down he made sure his back was obscuring Jaskier as well as possible and subtly offered his hand. "Can I hold yours?"

The tiniest piece of worry melted away as Jaskier took his hand.

"I'll be as fast as I can. You're safe here, Jaskier. Safe, you hear me? Nothing will happen to you." Geralt stated softly, finally managing to look Jaskier in the eye as the bard lifted his pale face.

"Be careful. I mean it, Geralt. Don't you dare to get hurt," Jaskier whispered, words tremulous and hold tightening before letting go.

Giving a good-natured scoff, Geralt got up and headed to the door. Before stepping out he turned to the couple. "Don't go out before morning or until I come back. And if any of you even thinks about touching Jaskier I'll make you fucking regret ever being born."

Closing in on the graveyard with silent steps Geralt could hear the telltale sounds of a necrophage eating and smell the rot clinging to it. Soon enough he caught a sight of it liking rancid bone marrow from a torn apart corpse.

A graveir.

Focused on feasting as it was, it had yet to notice him. Not that it'd take it long now to smell the fresh blood circulating in his veins and abandon its meal, eager to get a second course. Sneaking closer, Geralt readied to be attacked any second.

The graveir lifted its vaguely humanoid face, pieces of cadaver clinging to its teeth and smelled the air. With an excited sound it spotted Geralt, charging towards him on all fours with deadly gleam in its eyes. With equally deadly intent, Geralt lifted his silver sword coated in necrophage oil ready for the monster. With greater speed than its physique would suggest the graveir turned around, Geralt having avoided its attempt to knock him down to be eaten alive. Claws slashing and strong jaws snapping, the monster continued its attack. Taking advantage of its single mindedness, Geralt easily kept away from it and scored a cut that rended its flesh under the thick skin and coating of dried blood.

With a pained snarl the graveir fell back, gearing for another charge. One that Geralt didn't have time to get completely away from, ending up stumbling as his armor deflected the claws. A quick _Igni_ sign created blast of fire aimed right at the monster's nearing face gave him enough time to regain footing to launch an attack of his own. A quick series of slashes and thrusts made the monster fall back on defense, couple of the strikes hitting home and leaving deep wounds made more deadly by the oil coating the Witcher's sword.

Howling furiously the graveir dashed up to Geralt, managing to scratch his shin, claws digging through the leather of his boot. In retaliation Geralt kicked its face, giving himself a few precious seconds to slash another cut on the badly bleeding monster.

The graveir jumped desperately against the Witcher, finally managing to knock its prey down. With a gurgling growl it zeroed in on the vulnerable area of Geralt's armpit, pushing its head as far under the armor as it could and bit down hard.

Geralt gave a pained yell as the graveir wrenched its head back, tearing a piece of his flesh off.

As the monster tried to bite him again Geralt was fast enough to stab it deeply, making the graveir back off with a heavy limp and whimpering. Getting unsteadily up, Geralt watched the necrophage keep backing off. Apparently its almost nonexistent self-preservation instincts were finally kicking in, overruling its bloodlust. After it had already been mortally wounded. It'd be dead within an hour.

And so would be he if he didn't do something about the almost literal hole gushing blood very soon, Geralt thought ruefully as he advanced again.

Turning on its heels, the graveir took running from him far faster than Geralt knew he was currently capable of moving. Pressing a hand against the torn flesh Geralt started stumbling after the monster, displeased it was heading towards the buildings and possible idiots who had gone out despite warnings.

Jaskier felt like he was slowly starting to fracture.

Each glance Witold or Maja gave him felt almost like a physical blow, knowing they were silently judging his strange behavior. Which only made him hunch more into himself and harder to keep his breathing under control. He had long ago given up on trying to stop his hands from shaking. Didn't help that he had realized that he kept periodically slipping into biting his nails anxiously instead of fidgeting with his beads.

This had been a terrible idea.

And Geralt hadn't left long ago.

Hiding his face behind drawn up knees Jaskier could feel first tears starting to escape as the fear kept building. There was a faint taste of iron on his tongue as he accidentally bit too hard. Cursing mentally he pressed against the hurt cuticle, stopping the bleeding in a few seconds and gripping his beads with both hands. He really, really, didn't want to fall into the bad habit of destroying his nails again.

"You okay?" Witold asked, breaking the silence.

Jaskier felt himself freeze completely, fear starting to turn into panic at being addressed. Being focused on. Being evaluated.

He couldn't answer.

Instead Jaskier curled around his knees tighter and drew the weighted blanket to cover himself completely.

He was being pathetic.

He couldn't stop himself.

He didn't want to find out what the farmer would do to him.

He didn't.

He was being ridiculous, hiding like this. Just because he couldn't see the couple didn't mean they couldn't see him.

He was being pathetic.

He couldn't straighten up.

Breathing was turning into a struggle.

Time had stopped working.

"Maja, don't. You heard the Witcher," Witold said sharply as there was the sound of someone standing up.

"But…"

"No."

Thank Melitele and all the other gods for Geralt's warning. Jaskier was sure he would have started screaming and forgotten how to stop if Maja had come and touched him.

It was hard to breathe.

He didn't know what the couple was going to do to him.

There was nothing he could do about it.

He wouldn't be able to find his voice to say no.

Not that it would matter.

He didn't matter.

Only what people could get from him.

Just a commodity. Just a flighty songbird. Just good time for a little while.

He needed to get out.

Out.

Now.

With panicked breaths Jaskier scrambled up and dashed towards the front door, paying no heed to the protests to doing so. The cool night air was like balm on his overheated skin, making tears running down his cheeks feel almost as cold as his heart.

There was a little more air.

The few lanterns still burning dimly illuminated the yard as Jaskier headed towards the stable on unsteady legs and lungs that still weren't cooperating. Roach would be safe.

There was a horrible stench getting stronger.

Almost like rotting flesh.

Rotting flesh.

A corpse.

A necrophage.

Fuck.

Forcing his trembling legs to obey, Jaskier started to run as fast as he could. He could see a dark form moving towards him, still out of the lantern light but nearing.

Few more steps.

He could do this.

Jaskier wrenched the stable door open, hearing a terrifying gurgling growl. The moment he was in, Jaskier twirled around and slammed the door shut just as the bleeding graveir stepped into the light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Geraaaalt, you had been doing So Good with not getting seriously hurt on your hunts...! D:


	71. Chapter 71

Stumbling backwards to Roach Jaskier tried to make his wheezing breaths as quiet as he possibly could while simultaneously trying to get them under control.

Neither was going well.

He could hear the graveir moving outside.

"Fuck, Roach," Jaskier managed to whisper. "It's wounded. What happened to Geralt?"

Roach gave a nervous snort, ears swiveling rapidly and muscles twitching as the mare breathed in the foul stench of the monster. Jaskier started petting her in an attempt to calm them both down. He needed to be able to think. And he couldn't do that when his head was swimming with panic and too much oxygen. Even though it felt like the air was completely devoid of it.

He didn't have time for this.

The graveir had clearly met Geralt which was a chilling thought as the monster was still alive and there hadn't been a trace of the Witcher following it. Something had to have gone wrong.

Pressing his forehead against Roach's neck, Jaskier eventually managed to swallow his tears down and take a halfway steady breath. Dealing with a monster felt like an easier task than dealing with strangers. Which was seriously fucked up. But at least he knew exactly what the graveir wanted.

To eat him.

Very straightforward.

"Okay, okay. Geralt's somewhere, probably hurt. It's just me and you, Roach," Jaskier muttered, wiping at the tears and getting more worried about the Witcher by the second. "We have nothing silver and I'm no match to that thing anyway. No magic either. Doesn't leave us many options."

Ignoring the distressed sounds of the other animals, Jaskier started to saddle the mare with haste. "But we need to find Geralt so we can't stay in here."

"I hope you're ready to do something really fucking stupid, Roach," Jaskier stated, grabbing a nearby pitchfork and swung himself into the saddle.

After taking a shuddering breath that ended up being anything but bracing, he used the pitchfork to push the stable door open and nudged Roach straight into canter. They passed the surprised graveir without it making a move just as Jaskier had hoped. Unlike in the ideal scenario, the monster recovered quickly and gave chace almost immediately.

Fervently hoping to get it right at the first try Jaskier led Roach to run past one of the lanterns, trying to grab it.

He missed.

"Fuck!" Jaskier cursed, urging Roach into gallop around the yard to try give them enough time for another attempt.

He wasn't sure if it was Roach being her amazing self or if the graveir was slowing down but after only one lap there was just enough distance between them for Jaskier to dare rein the mare back down into canter. Praying the necrophage wouldn't suddenly sprint, he slowed the mare down slightly more just before reaching out again.

"Yes!" Jaskier crowed as he managed to curl his fingers around the lantern's handle.

Turning Roach around so they could run past the monster, Jaskier again fervently hoped to manage at the first try. Once they were adjacent to the graveir Jaskier swung down hard, hitting the necrophage with the lantern and let go of it. Just as he had hoped, the lantern broke, spilling oil over the monster setting it aflame.

With horrifying screeches and terrible smell the graveir started thrashing around in agony before slumping on the ground and falling silent. Not daring to trust it to be over that easily Jaskier once again led Roach to run past the monster, poking it with the pitchfork he was still carrying. As it didn't even twitch or whimper, Jaskier slowed the mare down to trot and circled the graveir few times for good measure in case it'd jump up.

Since nothing happened he dropped the pitchfork and nudged Roach back into canter, heading to the direction of the graveyard. If Geralt hadn't managed to finish a monster that died from just that, the Witcher had to be incapacitated in some way.

"Don't run him over, okay?" Jaskier told Roach, realizing it was too dark for him to see well. Especially before his eyes would accustom to the darkness after leaving the dim light of the yard.

It didn't take much more than a minute or two before there was a crumpled form laying on the path.

"Oh no, no, no, no!" Jaskier chanted as he stopped Roach in front of the still Witcher and practically fell of the saddle in his hurry to reach him.

"Geralt!" it was hard to see what was wrong with the lack of light and the way the Witcher was laying mostly on his front.

It was hard to see if Geralt was breathing.

As Jaskier reached out to check Geralt's pulse, his fingers stopped just before touching the Witcher's neck, the far too familiar fear resurfacing.

"Just fucking do it, you pathetic piece of shit," Jaskier hissed at himself as his trembling fingers kept hovering over Geralt's skin. "Just fucking touch him. You don't have time for this."

With a snarl and tears pricking in his eyes he finally pressed against Geralt's pulse point. Feeling the slow, too slow for even a Witcher, pulse, Jaskier gave a small sob of mixed relief and dread. Taking hold of Geralt to move him on his back Jaskier felt wet blood on his hand.

With choked cries and tears streaming he started peeling Geralt's armor off, trying to convince himself he wasn't actually undressing the Witcher without permission.

It was just the armor.

And he was doing it to keep Geralt alive.

It was fine.

It wasn't fine.

It was far from fine.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!" Jaskier cursed as the lack of armor revealed a terrifying lack of flesh on the side of Geralt's left pectoral, far too close to the arteries running in the armpit. _"Fuck!"_

"Roach, he's bleeding out!"

Feeling like he was drowning in terror born from both memories and the present Jaskier started to unlace his doublet as fast as his numb and shaking fingers managed. His awareness was shrinking, surroundings ceasing to exist.

Jaskier wasn't sure if he existed.

But there were hands pressing the doublet against the gaping wound so that was good.

Anything keeping Geralt alive was good.

Switching to keep pressure on the wound with his knee Jaskier started to pat Geralt's pockets, hoping against hope the Witcher was carrying some useful potion. Or something else.

Nothing.

Not that he would have been able to identify one potion from another, Jaskier realized belatedly. Only reason he could fetch them from the bag for Geralt was because the Witcher kept them neatly organized, never changing the order.

"We need to get him inside," Jaskier mumbled, voice almost completely stolen by the tears.

After moving Geralt's arm to at least keep the doublet in place Jaskier went to quickly detach the stirrups and the reins from Roach's tack. Letting the stirrups themselves fall on the ground, he quickly used one of the long leather straps to fix the makeshift pressure bandage against the wound and tightened it as much as he possibly could. The other one he decided to use as a tourniquet, placing it slightly above the wound in an attempt to slow the blood flow and having absolutely no fucking idea if it would work.

Thank all the gods for the slow heartbeats of Witchers, making it harder for them to die from blood loss.

"Why the fuck does he have to fall unconscious only when I'm too weak to hoist him up, let alone carry?" Jaskier asked Roach with strangled words, trying to stay at least slightly grounded. "Never when I'm well and could actually do it."

"He's going to absolutely hate learning about this. And have really sore ankles. And ass," Jaskier continued, checking the knot that was securing one end of the reins he had tied around Geralt's slightly lifted legs. Satisfied it should hold, he tied the other end to where their saddlebags usually attached to Roach's tack.

Hurrying to stand behind Geralt, Jaskier awkwardly propped the Witcher into a vaguely sitting position, trying to add more pressure to the wound at the same time. Clicking his tongue Jaskier hoped Roach would understand what he was trying to accomplish.

"Thank you," he breathed out as Roach started to slowly walk towards the farm.

They had to look like a really fucking ridiculous procession. An unconscious Witcher folded into almost a V-shape being dragged on his ass by a horse and a shaking bard propping his back up to avoid having his head hit every rock and root.

They really should teach Roach to kneel on command. It'd make things easier.

At least Geralt had managed to get close to the farm.

It felt like an eternity and a year had passed before Roach stopped in front of the main house. After carefully lowering Geralt back to the ground Jaskier ran inside, finding the couple exactly where they had been when he had fled in panic.

"Geralt..! Need help..!" he panted, bracing himself against the doorframe with bloody hands. "Right outside..!"

While Maja jumped immediately up, Witold took lightly hold of her wrist looking worried. "The Witcher forbade us from going out."

"Fuck that! Geralt is dying!" Jaskier snarled, knuckles turning white where they were clutching the wood. "And the graveir is dealt with."

"Witold, I'm going," Maja said urgently, walking away from her husband as she shrugged his hand off.

"Fine, fine," the farmer muttered, hurrying after Jaskier and Maja.

Geralt hadn't moved and neither had Roach when Jaskier reached them, untying the Witcher's legs. In the dim light Geralt looked ghastly, although it was hard to determine whether the snow white face was due to the potions still coursing in his veins or the severe blood loss. Either way, the black veins stood out far too much and red was staining Jaskier's doublet strapped against the wound in an alarming manner.

"What's wrong with him?" Maja gasped, focusing on the black streaking the Witcher's face.

"The graveir bit him. We need to get him inside and stitch the wound," Jaskier ordered, voice faint.

"I'll help you," Witold offered, moving to lift Geralt's shoulders since Jaskier was standing by the legs.

With a relieved exhale and muscles quivering from exhaustion, Jaskier grabbed Geralt's calves and tried to do his part of carrying. It took them far too long to get Geralt onto a wooden bench in the common room.

"We can move him to a bed if he's still alive after the bleeding is taken care of," Witold informed Jaskier tersely.

Jaskier wanted to scream that Geralt was more important than bloodied bedding. Instead he just asked quietly. "Does either one of you know how to stitch a wound?"

He wanted to do it himself, far too practiced in sewing the Witcher back together. But his hands were trembling too badly to be efficient or do well. He'd do it if necessary.

"I do," Maja nodded. "Witold, go get water and towels. And warm some water up too."

Before Maja could ask about the equipment, Jaskier was already unpacking their medical bag. Not only was it closer, they'd definitely have better quality than whatever the couple had here. They really, really, needed to get the move on.

By the time Witold returned, they had laid everything necessary out within easy grabbing distance.

"Keep the wound clean while I work," Maja ordered as she removed the improvised pressure bandaging.

"Oh dear," she said faintly as she got her first look at the damage. Jaskier full-heartedly agreed with the sentiment.

While the bite wasn't bleeding as heavily anymore it hadn't stopped completely. Not that it was a surprise with the way there was an actual piece of flesh missing. At least it wasn't a particularly big area.

Jaskier quickly wiped the wound clean and poured disinfectant into it, readying it for Maja to start stitching. It was quiet work, neither of them talking aside from few requests. At one point Witold returned, bringing the warm water and taking a seat a little away from them. Jaskier didn't pay any mind to the man's presence, completely focused on Geralt.

On the way he kept breathing.

On the way the wound was getting closed.

On the way Geralt stayed alive.

Eventually Maja finished the sewing and switched to winding gauze around the Witcher's chest after removing the torn shirt. Jaskier couldn't force himself to help her do it. Once finished, Maja took care of the shallow scratches that had thankfully stopped bleeding by themselves on Geralt's leg

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," Jaskier kept repeating, words sticking to his throat but absolutely sincere.

He wanted to hold Geralt's hand. Feel the pulse under his fingers. To reassure himself the Witcher was still alive.

He couldn't.

Instead he kept thanking Maja as if reciting a prayer.

"Of course I helped him, Jaskier," Maja interrupted him gently. "I couldn't have just watched from the sidelines."

There was no surety for someone to help a Witcher.

"Thank you," Jaskier said once more before falling silent, just staring at Geralt.

"We can move him to a bed now," Witold sighed and approached them for the first time since bringing the warm water.

Another thank fell from Jaskier's lips as he tried to stand up with the intention of helping to carry Geralt only to find out his legs had stopped supporting him. His whole body felt like it was about to stop supporting him.

"I can't carry him," Jaskier mumbled, rubbing at the tear tracks streaking his cheeks and only managed to make blood to join them. "I'm sorry."

"Then I'll do it," Maja said, elbowing her husband lightly as he gave a displeased huff. "Do you want me to come back to help you walk, Jaskier?"

No. No. Absolutely no. He couldn't be touched. Especially not when this anxious and feeling naked and incredibly vulnerable without the extra protective layer of a doublet.

"No. I can- I can do it," Jaskier shook his head, determined to force himself to get up and move. Just a little more and he could slump down close to Geralt and keep watching over him.

He could do this.

Jaskier was honestly more than half surprised that he did indeed manage to get up and follow the couple carrying Geralt into what appeared to be a small guest room.

"I'll bring your things and the bedding," Maja offered as Jaskier lowered himself into a chair he had dragged right next to the bed from its original spot.

"Thank you, I- Roach!" Jaskier exclaimed, realizing the mare was outside alone still wearing her tack. "Could someone please take care of her?"

The mere thought of going to tend to Roach was enough to make him want to weep in utter exhaustion.

"I'll do it," Witold agreed with a long-suffering sigh.

"Thank you," Jaskier said once again in a small voice.

It was as if knowing he didn't have to move was sapping what little strength he had had left. He wanted to close his eyes and give in to the exhaustion. But he wouldn't. He needed to keep an eye on Geralt, to make sure he wouldn't get worse. And while Maja most likely didn't mean any harm he wasn't sure of Witold. The farmer was reluctant in his help, it definitely wouldn't take much for him to change his mind about them. Or want something in return.

It wasn't safe to fall asleep.

It didn't take long to be left alone with Geralt for now. After quickly donning a doublet on and drawing the weighted blanket around himself Jaskier stared at the Witcher, silently willing him to open his eyes soon. Even briefly. For just long enough to offer another proof of being alive aside from the steady up and down of his chest. Jaskier placed his hand just above Geralt's lips, wanting to feel the exhales. Gods, he yearned to climb in and curl against Geralt's chest. To hear and feel the slow heartbeats.

But he didn't have Geralt's consent.

And his nerves were a frayed bunch of lightning and terror, making Jaskier sure he would shatter in million pieces if he was touched. So he just lowered himself to the floor, using the bed and wall to prop himself up. He didn't have the strength to stay upright without help anymore and laying down was out of question. He needed to see Geralt. Needed to see him breathing.

Jaskier didn't know how long he sat there just looking at the Witcher but the sun had risen long time ago when there was a knocking on the door, startling him. Not waiting for an answer, Maja stepped in.

"How is he?" she inquired, walking to Geralt to check him for fever and inspect the bandaging.

Words sticking to his throat, Jaskier just shrugged and pressed his back more firmly against the wall.

"Has he woken up at all?" Maja asked, frowning at his nonverbal answer. "And did you sleep at all?"

"No," Jaskier said barely audibly before lying. "And yeah."

There was no reason for him to highlight just how badly he was doing currently. How defenseless he was.

"Well. There's food in the kitchen. You're welcome to go get some," Maja informed him before leaving.

It would be a good idea to get food.

Jaskier didn't move.

Eventually Maja returned, carrying a bowl of water and a clean towel.

"Any change?" she asked, starting to take care of the wound by herself after realizing Jaskier wasn't going to help her.

He wanted to.

But he couldn't.

"No," Jaskier murmured, staring unblinkingly at every move Maja did.

She gave a concerned hum and wiped the little blood that had escaped the wound away. Starting to wind the gauze back in place she looked over at Jaskier. "It's healing better than I could have imagined."

"Accelerated healing," Jaskier explained quietly. It was nice getting even short answers out. Better than nothing.

"Oh," Maja blinked astonished before starting to head back out. "I hope he wakes soon."

The third time Maja entered the light outside had changed and she had a firm frown on her face.

"Go get food and water," she said, pointing at the door as soon as her hands were free. "I'll stay with him until you come back."

"Now," she added as Jaskier just kept silently watching Geralt.

As if reminded by Maja, Jaskier suddenly became aware of his body begging him to tend to the basic needs. Perhaps getting the words out was so difficult since his throat was absolutely parched.

With a tired sigh Jaskier got shakily up, taking a moment to let the dancing black spots disappear before starting to make his unsteady way out of the room, rationality winning over the compulsive need to keep his eyes on Geralt. Taking care of everything as fast as possible and doing his best to avoid people Jaskier headed back, bringing a pitcher of water and a mug with him.

"He hasn't woken up. But the bite is still looking good," Maja informed him and got up from the chair she had been sitting in. "Try to get some rest, okay."

"Thanks," Jaskier said, returning to his nook as Maja exited again.

The first thing Geralt was aware of was that something hurt like a bitch.

The second thing was that there was someone with him. But the familiar heartbeat, breathing pattern and smell told him it was just Jaskier. Nothing to be on guard against.

Jaskier.

Opening his eyes, Geralt turned his head to where the bard was.

"Geralt?" Jaskier whispered as their eyes met.

"Why the fuck are you sitting in the dark?" Geralt greeted him, eliciting a small wet laugh and a sniffle from Jaskier.

"Hello to you too," Jaskier said, moving to rest his elbows on the bed. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine."

"For..!" Jaskier bit a curse short. "You have a hole in you. The truth, Geralt, now."

"Hmmm," admitting weakness was fucking hard. Even to only Jaskier.

The bard gave an exasperated huff and turned away for a second to rummage something before presenting a vial to him.

"Drink. I know you are hurting under all that unnecessary Witcher stoicism."

Taking the offered painkiller from Jaskier and drinking it, he observed the bard. Geralt was sure he was the healthier looking out of the two of them and he had had a piece of himself bitten off.

"How long have you been awake?" Geralt asked, voice heavy with reprimand.

"Since dozing in the cart," Jaskier shrugged, looking completely indifferent.

"And which night is it now?"

"The next one."

"Fuck, Jaskier! Go to sleep. Now."

"Can't," Jaskier protested quietly.

"I'm not going to fucking die if you close your eyes," Geralt scoffed.

"..."

Oh. Right. He probably had almost died considering the wound. Well. He wasn't dying anymore.

"Jaskier, I'm fine. I'll be fine soon," Geralt amended seeing the glare Jaskier aimed at him. "It's safe to sleep, nothing is going to happen."

Jaskier just kept looking at him, expression tense.

"Want to hold hands?" maybe it'd make the bard believe he seriously was fine and not going to suddenly die or disappear if not stared at.

"Can't."

Not a good sign.

"Okay. Did someone find the dead graveir during the day?" Geralt really didn't feel like going to track the fucker down to check it died as it should have.

"I burned it," Jaskier informed him.

"You what?"

"I needed to get to you and it was in the way. So Roach and I took care of it," Jaskier said as if that was something he did every other day.

"What the fuck, Jaskier?"

The bard was absolutely unbelievable.

It was fucking attractive.

And later he'd let Jaskier know just how fucking stupid he had been going out, let alone engaging the monster. Geralt wanted to throttle him.

Jaskier just shrugged and offered him water. "Here, you almost bled out. Maja stitched you back together so be sure to thank her.

"Hmmm."

"Geralt… I'm so glad you're alive," Jaskier whispered voice breaking. "Please stay that way. I don't want to watch you bleed out ever again."

"Hmmm," they both knew that wasn't something he could promise.

"I love you, Geralt. Please be more careful. Please," Jaskier murmured, lips trembling and blinking rapidly.

"I can try," I love you too.

Jaskier gave a shuddering sigh before offering the tiniest smile. "Go to sleep, love. You need it."

Geralt really hoped one day he'd get used enough to the endearments not to be thrown briefly off balance each time.

"You too," Geralt scoffed.

"Sleep," Jaskier repeated, blowing him a kiss.

Fuck but the bard was cute.

Geralt woke up to Jaskier's voice beckoning him to do so. Opening his eyes Geralt saw it was bright outside, the bard leaning against the bed looking death warmed and Maja placing a bowl of water on the floor.

"Good to see you awake," she said, wringing excess water from a towel. "Do you mind if I check your wound?"

"I can do it," Geralt said, laboriously sitting up.

"Let her do it," Jaskier chided him. "Don't try to do everything by yourself when you have help available."

Hah, the bard should follow his own advice.

"Fine," Geralt huffed, allowing Maja to start unwinding the gauze around his chest.

The stitches weren't as neat as if he or Jaskier had done them but they were doing their job which was the only thing that mattered. It would simply turn into yet another jagged scar. Wouldn't even draw attention once it was done healing among all the others littering his body.

"Doesn't look infected," Geralt observed. Which was good, the cadaverine in necrophages' teeth had a nasty habit of creating severe ones.

"Jaskier has been letting me use your disinfectant," Maja informed him, dabbing the wound with exactly that.

"Hmmm."

"How long does it take you to heal?" Maja asked neutrally.

Apparently she wanted them out of here as soon as possible. Which didn't surprise him in the least. It was rare enough she was even doing this for a Witcher.

"We won't stay for long. Should leave in the afternoon at the latest," Geralt said ignoring Jaskier's sounds of protest.

Better to leave before they wore the welcome thin. And he should be able to travel by then. They wouldn't be reaching the inn but that didn't matter. They'd just set camp for the night.

"That's good," Maja looked like she hadn't meant to say that. Her voice wasn't particularly convincing as she tried to cover it. "I, uh, meant that it's good you're healing so fast."

Grabbing the bowl of water she hurried out of the room, leaving them alone again.

"Geralt, you can't travel that soon!" Jaskier exclaimed with a worried expression.

"I can. It's better to return to the inn than stay here. We can travel slow," for both of our sake, Geralt didn't add.

"You're going to do it regardless of what I say, aren't you?" Jaskier grumbled. "Just so you know, you're going to ride."

"Jaskier-"

"No. If you insist on leaving, you'll do that at least. I'll walk," Jaskier continued, looking absolutely determined.

"Fine," Geralt grunted, not wanting to argue about the issue. He could make Jaskier take a turn once they were on the road.

"Great. Now eat, drink, and go back to sleep. I promise to wake you at a reasonable time for leaving," Jaskier said, producing a plate of cold food and a mug full of water.

"You better do the same," Geralt stated, taking the proffered objects.

It was clear the bard had been ignoring all those things.

"Sure," Jaskier nodded, pouring water for also himself.

"Eat too."

"Already did," Jaskier said before continuing when Geralt glowered at him. "I tried, Geralt. Didn't get far but I really did so."

Since the bard seemed sincere Geralt decided to let it go this time. There'd be time to work on it later. At least he was drinking.

They sat in silence while Geralt ate and Jaskier just gazed at him with an absent look in his eyes.

Absent.

That might not be good.

"Jaskier?"

No reply.

"Jaskier?"

"Huh?" the bard focused on him.

"You okay?" Geralt asked with a frown.

"...Yeah, yeah," Jaskier answered, massaging his brow. "Just thinking."

"Hmmm," Geralt wasn't sure if he believed that. At all.

"I'll take those," Jaskier said reaching for the now empty plate and mug. "Get some more sleep, Geralt. You need it if you insist on being able to travel."

Geralt kind of hated that the bard was right.

"You too should get some rest," Geralt huffed, laying down again and closing his eyes.

"I'll take it easy. Sleep well."

LOOK!!! Alttnora drew absolutely amazing Jaskier from few chapters back!!! ❤️❤️❤️ You can find more of Alttnora's art on [instagram](https://www.instagram.com/accruxx/)!

I'm seriously so blown away and humbled you (and everyone else who has done so) are taking time out of your day to draw fan art. ;;w;;

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that turned intense.


	72. Chapter 72

Jaskier was sure Roach's tack had gained at least twenty pounds since the last time he had saddled the mare. Their bags too were heavier than before. But there was no way he'd let Geralt do physical labor no matter how much the Witcher grumbled and his own body protested. It was just exhaustion. Geralt had almost died. There was no competition which one of them should do this.

"You were absolutely wonderful, girl. Sorry I left strangers to take care of you," he apologized. "I'll give you a treat once we camp for the night."

"Don't spoil her," Geralt huffed, standing cross-armed next to them with an annoyed expression due to not being allowed to do anything.

"She deserves it after dragging your half-dead ass back to the house," Jaskier informed the Witcher, giving Roach a few pats before leading her out of the stable. "How's your lovely bottom by the way?"

"My ass is just fine. Why the fuck do you ask?" Geralt grumbled.

"Because she literally dragged you along the ground on it. I was sure you'd be chafed to hell. How about your ankles? I had to tie the reins around them," Jaskier continued while the Witcher mounted Roach.

"Fine," Geralt glared down at him.

At least he didn't gripe about the transportation method. And hadn't been limping. Not that the lack of physical signs told much.

"Thank you for your hospitality," Jaskier said so faintly he wasn't sure if Witold and Maja who had come out to see them off heard him.

"It was nothing," Maja replied. "Thank you Witcher for taking care of the monster."

Geralt simply grunted in acknowledgement and nudged Roach into walking. With one more quiet thank you Jaskier started walking next to him.

They had traveled only few miles and Jaskier felt ready to drop. Which was fucking pathetic. They wouldn't reach the inn in this lifetime if he acted like this. But he couldn't make his head stop swimming or legs return to normal from the lead they had turned into. At least Roach was easy to follow even when everything looked a bit blurred.

He almost continued walking when Geralt stopped the mare.

"Break time," the Witcher stated and dismounted with grace that shouldn't be possible in his condition.

"Are you alright?" Jaskier worried, trying to see if Geralt had started to bleed.

Not that he could see anything since the Witcher was again wearing his armor. Someone had been kind enough to retrieve everything he had left behind in his haste to help Geralt.

"I'm fine," Geralt said, rummaging through a saddlebag.

"Then why?" Jaskier asked with a puzzled frown, earning a scathing glare.

"Don't you have any self-awareness?" Geralt huffed, sounding vexed.

Oh. He must have been slowing them down more than he had realized. Well, they weren't in a hurry, it couldn't matter too much, Jaskier tried to reassure himself. Didn't work very well when he was aware that Geralt should be resting in a bed and not traveling.

"Sit," Geralt ordered, doing so himself.

Jaskier followed the example and seated himself next to the Witcher only to get a waterskin and a hard biscuit shoved at him. It felt far too familiar.

Taking a drink he gave the waterskin back for Geralt to do the same and nibbled at the biscuit.

"Have you slept at all?" Geralt asked, staring at him intensely.

"This morning," Jaskier answered. He really had dozed off. He shouldn't have but he hadn't been able to avoid it. Something could have happened to Geralt. Or him. It hadn't been safe to sleep in a place where anyone could have walked in at any time. At least he had startled awake soon enough.

He would sleep once they were safe at the inn.

"Clearly not enough. You look like a fucking reanimated corpse."

"How kind of you. Thank you, Geralt."

"Why the fuck did you stop taking care of yourself, Jaskier?" Geralt demanded.

Jaskier could only blink at him. He hadn't really realized that was what he had done. There just had been far more important things going on. Like Geralt almost dying and then staying unconscious for a day. No time to think about himself.

"Get it through your thick skull that you're important. Just because I'm out of commission for a little while doesn't mean you can suddenly disregard yourself," Geralt almost growled, visibly frustrated.

Hmmm, no. Geralt's well-being was paramount. Jaskier knew he'd always place it above his own. And this time it had been necessary to guard him.

"Didn't mean to?" Jaskier said unsure if it was the right answer.

"Try harder," Geralt commanded. Handing him the waterskin again, the Witcher fixed him with a piercing glare. "And why the fuck did you go outside when I ordered no one to do so?"

Ah.

"You needed help."

"You just mysteriously felt that and went to ready Roach?" Geralt scoffed. "The truth, Jaskier."

"...Panicked," Jaskier muttered, too exhausted to try avoiding the question. "Had to get away from people."

Geralt gave a litany of curses that got steadily louder. "You-! You had a panic attack and decided it's the fucking perfect time to fight a _fucking graveir?_ What the _fuck_ is wrong with you?"

Jaskier couldn't help but cower slightly from the shouting. Gods, he hated these involuntary reactions. "Had to. It was wounded but you weren't anywhere. Something had to have gone wrong. And it had."

"That's not your job! You're not meant for fighting!"

"I'm not going to let you die if there's anything I can do," Jaskier said, looking Geralt straight in the eye despite the way he wanted to run away from the aggression.

" _A graveir, Jaskier!_ It could have eaten you in a second," Geralt snarled, leaning towards him.

"It didn't," Jaskier couldn't hold the gaze anymore, had to shuffle farther away from the witcher.

The action seemed to snap Geralt out of his anger as the Witcher fell silent and drew back, not trying to crowd his space anymore.

They sat in silence until Jaskier finally finished his biscuit and Geralt got up to mount Roach again, not saying anything. The Witcher seemed to still be pissed at him. If that was the price to pay for Geralt to be fine, relatively at least, Jaskier was more than happy to pay it.

They did manage to travel for a slightly longer stretch before stopping again, taking another break in silence. After the fourth break Jaskier stopped counting, frustrated at himself for slowing them down. At least it also meant Geralt was resting which was a very positive side effect. But Jaskier was sure they hadn't crossed even a quarter of the distance when they started to set up camp for the night.

Neither had spoken yet when they spread out their bedrolls.

"You can come next to me if you want," Geralt offered as Jaskier placed his roll out of arm reach.

"I- I shouldn't. I…" Jaskier wasn't sure why that appeared to be his breaking point. But suddenly he was crying and curling into himself where he was kneeling.

"Jaskier, everything is fine. I'm alright, you're alright," Geralt said soothingly, moving closer. "Nothing is wrong. You're safe."

Jaskier could only shake his head. It wasn't alright. Geralt was badly hurt no matter how the Witcher kept shrugging it off. And he had- and he had-

"It's not. Geralt, I- I took your armor off. Had to touch you. I couldn't ask you. Couldn't ask for permission. But I still did it. Watched Maja remove your shirt, didn't stop her," Jaskier couldn't help the way his breaths were turning into useless gasps. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I had to. I had to. Please believe me. I'm sorry."

His fingers were tingling painfully and coldness was spreading inside him.

"Breath, Jaskier. In and out. Slow and calm. Breathe," Geralt coaxed. "Tell me what's around us."

It was hard to open his burning eyes and even harder to focus on Geralt's words. It would have been so much easier to just give up and keep drowning. Nausea surging suddenly Jaskier turned away from the Witcher to empty his stomach of what little it held. He couldn't get air into his lungs.

He couldn't breathe.

But Jaskier could vaguely hear Geralt encouraging him, asking him to list things around them, to simply breath slower, telling him everything was alright and he was safe. He owed the Witcher to at least try, no matter how utterly exhausted he was. Slowly, so slowly, Jaskier managed to claw his way out of the panic attack that had been building for days.

He hurt everywhere.

Inside and outside.

"...Hi…" Jaskier whispered so faintly a human wouldn't have heard him.

"You with me?" Geralt tried to find eye contact.

Jaskier couldn't meet the gaze. Instead he gave a barely discernible nod.

"Can you get up for long enough to move your bedroll?" Geralt asked, glancing at the mess on the ground.

Jaskier wasn't sure where he found the strength but he managed to make it to where Geralt's bedroll was, dragging his own bedding with him. After kicking dirt on the stain Geralt joined him, sitting down on his own bedroll.

"Jaskier, you do realize you did the right thing?" Geralt said seriously. "You saved my life."

Jaskier gave another small nod, hating how he was making Geralt deal with his idiotic problems. The Witcher should be resting and recovering, not reassuring him. The wounds had looked okay when Geralt had treated it. Jaskier knew the bite would tear open at the first wrong move.

"Then what's the problem?"

Being overdramatic.

Jaskier shrugged, not knowing how to explain the horrible feeling eating at him.

"Don't shut me out," Geralt snapped, making Jaskier flinch involuntarily.

"I don't know… I don't know what the problem is," Jaskier mumbled, voice wrecked. He wished to have a better answer.

Geralt gave a vexed sigh and laid down.

When Jaskier dared to glance at the Witcher, Geralt's face had softened and irritation bled out of his body language.

"Jaskier, you really did do the right thing. I don't mind at all that you took my armor off or touched me. Besides, I have given you the blanket permission to touch me anytime you want to," Geralt said, this time managing to lock eyes. "I know this is important to you, so, I give you permission to do anything necessary in case something like this happens again."

The words did help.

"Can I… Can I hold your hand?" Jaskier asked hesitantly, still not completely convinced Geralt would ever again accept his touch after what he had done.

"Always," Geralt said with a smile in his eyes and reached out to take the offered hand. The expression morphed into a frown almost immediately and the Witcher drew it closer. "Your nails."

"What about them?" Jaskier asked confused.

"You've been biting them again," there was heavy disapproval in Geralt's voice.

"Oh," now that Jaskier thought back he did realize having mostly ignored his beads. Pressing his free hand's fingertips slightly together made them twinge with light pain.

Fuck.

No lute playing until his nails grew back a little.

Fucking great.

There went the free room.

"Fuck," Jaskier echoed his thoughts. "I'm sorry."

"Why the fuck are you apologizing to me?" Geralt grumbled.

"Can't play. We'll have to pay for the room."

"Jaskier. I just finished a contract. Staying at the inn is not a problem," Geralt huffed.

It was a good point. Jaskier still felt guilty about not being able to earn his keep.

"Do you want to take a sleeping po-"

Geralt didn't get to finish his question when Jaskier protested louder than he meant to before getting his volume under control. "No! No. Not while camping. I sleep too heavily after drinking one. It's too dangerous. If something happens I would probably be pretty out of it after you wake me."

Geralt huffed in obvious irritation but simply closed his eyes in a signal of being done with talking. Jaskier was more than happy to let the conversation drop.

Their hands stayed joined even after Geralt fell asleep.

It was too dark by now to see anything well but Jaskier could still make out the movement of Geralt's chest. It and the warm hand in his were reassuring. Proof that the Witcher was alive. Jaskier was satisfied with laying there and watching over the other man, fighting his own bone deep exhaustion to stay awake.

Geralt woke up to Jaskier making a panicked noise and scrambling to him.

"I'm not dead," Geralt said, guessing that was what Jaskier had dreamed about with the way he was hovering his hands above the wound on his chest.

"Geralt…" Jaskier murmured his name eyes wide and gleaming with unshed tears.

"I'm fine," Geralt stated and sat up. The sun was rising so they might just as well start the day since they were both awake. "It was just a nightmare."

"Oh. Didn't mean to fall asleep," Jaskier mumbled, running hands over his face.

"You what now?" Geralt snapped. He better have heard wrong.

"Breakfast?" Jaskier pointedly ignored him and got up on unsteady legs to bring some food.

He was going to fucking force feed Jaskier a sleeping potion if the bard wouldn't take one voluntarily tonight.

"You're going to ride Roach," Geralt informed Jaskier. There was no way the bard would able to walk for long enough to reach the inn today.

"No. You're hurt Geralt, let Roach help you. You shouldn't be exerting yourself," Jaskier said resolutely.

"I humored you yesterday. I'm perfectly fit for traveling on foot. Unlike you," Geralt glowered.

He left Jaskier unsupervised for a little while and the bard ran himself to the ground. Granted, the circumstances might have been less than ideal but Geralt had a bad feeling Jaskier would have ended up ignoring himself no matter the reason.

"I'm not the one missing a piece of himself," Jaskier deadpanned.

"You're just the one who hasn't slept in days and keeps forgetting to eat," Geralt said just as flatly.

"I have slept," the bard protested.

"Dozing twice in three days doesn't count," Geralt grunted.

They kept staring at each other, neither one wanting to back down.

Eventually Jaskier sighed in defeat, shoulders drooping. "Two days."

"Three nights. You're going to ride and go the fuck to sleep the moment we have a room again."

Jaskier gave another sigh and went to prepare Roach for the trip ahead of them. It was hard not to march over and snatch the saddle away from the bard when it took him few tries to hoist it high enough to place on the mare's back. But it was a really fucking bad idea to lift his arms that high and tear his stitches.

One more staredown and they were off.

It took far longer than it reasonably should have to reach the inn but the leisure pace and frequent breaks made sure Jaskier wouldn't just collapse and fall off Roach. It wasn't such a bad thing for him either, Geralt had to reluctantly grant. Not even a Witcher healed fast enough to not feel the strain of such a severe wound even after having had some time to recuperate. He wouldn't be doing anything strenuous for a while longer.

"You're back!" Anja beamed and practically dropped a tray of drinks on a table, ignoring the alarmed sounds that customers made at the action. After running to them she gave them a critical once over. "And look absolutely horrible. Both of you."

"Let me take those," she commanded, pointing at the saddlebags Jaskier was carrying. When the bard didn't do so immediately, she started to make grabby hands until he gave in.

"Thanks," Jaskier said, starting to head to the counter where Lena was smiling at them.

"Hello! Nice to see you returned. Your room is still free," she greeted as Anja placed the bags on the floor and skipped to the backrooms.

Their room.

This family kept being strange.

Geralt couldn't remember ever being welcomed like this by humans. Jaskier didn't count. The bard had been an outlier and an unavoidable force of nature since the moment they met.

Just as Lena was handing him their keys Anja hurried out of the backroom, followed by Brajan walking at a normal pace.

"Welcome back," the innkeeper smiled warmly before frowning. "I was about to say that I hope everything went well but I can see it didn't."

"Could have gone better," Geralt allowed.

"You probably want to go rest but let us know if there's anything we can do," Brajan said firmly. "And Jaskier, don't worry about performing today. You can have this night for free as a welcome back gift."

"But-" Jaskier tried to protest.

"No. It's free," Brajan shut him down. "Do you want me to bring food up later?"

"...Yes please," Jaskier said quietly, averting his eyes.

"Good. Now, both of you better go rest," Brajan shooed them with a kind but concerned smile.

"Thank you," the bard said.

"Let's go!" Anja commanded, hoisting the bags up again and started to lead them upstairs. "I want to hear everything that happened later. After you have slept for two days or so. You both look like ghosts with how pale you are. Are ghosts pale or is it just a fairytale, Geralt? Are they even real?"

How the fuck was this girl always brimming with energy?

"They're real."

Anja gave a delighted gasp before placing the bags on the floor and spread her arms to gesture grandly. "Tadaa! Just as you left it. And I'll leave you to rest now. See you later!"

The door had barely closed after her when Jaskier suddenly laid down on the floor. Or collapsed. Geralt wasn't exactly sure which.

"What are you doing?"

"Going to sleep like you want," the bard mumbled and closed his eyes.

"On the floor?" Geralt asked incredulously.

"We're one now."

"Go to bed," he huffed.

"No. It's yours."

"Take the fucking bed."

"No."

"For fuck's sake. Use a bedroll at least if you're that adamant, you stubborn bard," Geralt grumbled exasperated.

"...Too much work," Jaskier murmured, sounding half asleep already.

"You're unbelievable," Geralt complained, rolling out Jaskier's bedding. "Move."

"...No bed..." the bard slurred, not even twitching. "Yours. Sleep."

"I prepared your bedroll. Just roll towards me and you'll land on it."

Jaskier gave a small sound of protest but did move just enough to get on the bedroll. Somehow he managed to lay down even more bonelessly than before. With a fond sigh Geralt spread a blanket over him and moved to the bed.

"Sleep well," he said quietly and laid down, knowing Jaskier was already asleep.

"Jaskier, wake up. Food is here."

Jaskier wasn't sure if he was awake. Or if the words had been real. If he was real. Everything was slow and far away.

"Jaskier, I can hear you're awake."

He was? Then why did it feel impossible to open his eyes?

"You need to eat. You can sleep more afterwards."

Sleep. That sounded good. But wasn't he supposed to do something before that? Open his eyes at least. Maybe sit up. Both were hard.

"How are you feeling?" Geralt asked sitting in front of him and offering him a bowl.

It was far heavier than Jaskier had expected from the way it looked. His hands were starting to shake under its weight so he placed the bowl to rest on his knee.

Geralt was frowning.

"Jaskier?"

Geralt sounded worried.

He should answer. Opening his mouth didn't result in words. Everything was slipping through his fingers. He was so tired. So tired. His eyes closed without permission. It was difficult to open them again.

Geralt's frown was deeper.

"Jaskier, eat. You can go to sleep right after," even Geralt's voice sounded like one.

Eat. Sleep. Yes. He could do that. He had never held a heavier spoon.

A while later Jaskier laid back down, too exhausted to pay any mind to Geralt's protests.

He had eaten.

Sort of.

Now sleep.

"Jaskier, wake up. Time to eat."

That sounded very familiar. Maybe he was stuck in a loop. Maybe everything would start repeating. The thought made a cold shiver run down his spine. He didn't want that.

"...Hi…" Jaskier mumbled faintly, blinking lethargically.

"Breakfast," Geralt said simply, waiting for him to sit up before giving him the food.

Moving his arms was more difficult than Jaskier remembered. Everything was aching. Had for days. At least he thought it had been days since the night of the hunt. He wasn't sure. Of anything. His mind wasn't cooperating.

Sleep. That would help.

Jaskier placed the plate down on the floor and slumped back onto the bedroll. Geralt was saying something but the words and sounds were already disappearing.

The next time Jaskier woke up there wasn't anyone telling him to do so. It was difficult to connect the movements he made to his limbs. Everything felt so far away. Unreal. Something about the thought was trying and failing to alarm him.

"Jaskier?" Geralt asked, sitting up on the bed where he had been laying.

"Mhmmm," Jaskier hummed, struggling to get on his feet.

"What are you doing?"

"...Bathroom…" Jaskier was relatively sure he said it aloud as he headed to the door.

"Are you going to be alright alone?" Geralt asked reluctantly.

Jaskier wondered if he was supposed to be offended by the question. He couldn't summon the feeling. He might not be feeling anything at the moment. It was surprisingly nice, just floating without anxiety.

"...Can do it…"

"Hmmm."

Jaskier didn't give Geralt more time to talk, just stepped out and closed the door.

There were people in the tavern. It didn't bother him. He wasn't feeling anxious. He wasn't feeling anything. It was nice. Made things easy. Jaskier wasn't sure when was the last time things had been easy.

He should probably be alarmed.

Someone was trying to talk to him as he headed back. He couldn't focus on the words so he just continued walking until he was in their room again and could curl up on the bedroll.

He didn't stay awake for long.

"Lunch," Geralt's bland voice woke Jaskier up.

Trying to answer resulted only in a wordless croak. Dear Melitele, he was parched.

"Morning. Noon. Whatever the time is," Jaskier greeted after finishing drinking greedily.

For some reason Geralt gave a relieved sigh. "It's little past noon. Feeling finally awake?"

"Yeah. And look at that, no nightmares. At least any that woke me up that is," Jaskier said with a yawn. "I guess the trick is to not sleep for days."

"Don't even joke about doing that again," Geralt glowered at him. "It was idiotic."

"It was necessary," Jaskier countered. "Something might have happened. I had to keep watch."

Geralt clenched his jaw, taking a moment. "Jaskier. That's your trauma talking. There wasn't actual need."

"You almost died. I watched you bleed towards death. Don't tell me it wasn't necessary to keep an eye on you and make sure you wouldn't get worse again or that the family wouldn't do anything to hurt us. You know perfectly well, better than me, how people react to Witchers," Jaskier ground out.

"Listen to yourself. Why would they have done so after helping?" the Witcher was starting to sound frustrated.

"They could have changed their mind, decided they don't have to pay a dead man. Or want something else as a payment," Jaskier said, crossing his arms. It turned into more of a hug.

"Hey, we're both alright. Nothing happened," Geralt interrupted his thoughts before they could start spiraling. "It was a shitty situation but you weren't in any danger from those people. You've said it yourself, you're paranoid about people's intentions."

Jaskier silently averted his eyes. Geralt was right, he was scared of people. But it really hadn't been safe to let his guard down and sleep. It hadn't.

Had it?

It had felt necessary to stay awake. Very much so.

The more Jaskier thought about it, the less convinced he got about the need.

"Are you sure?" he asked quietly, taking hold of his beads. He needed to ground himself, his heart was starting to speed up. He didn't know what to believe.

"Yes," Geralt stated, sounding absolutely sure of himself.

"Can I have a hug?" Jaskier couldn't make his voice much louder than a whisper. "If you still stand touching me."

"Always. Jaskier, I honestly don't care that you removed my armor and touched me without a specific permission," Geralt said seriously. "You can always do so. Take my hand, hug me, whatever you want, whenever you want."

"Thank you," Jaskier murmured, winding his arms around Geralt, mindful of the bite. Having the Witcher hold him close but lightly was making some of the anxiety and doubts bleed away. He felt safe.

Loved.

Burying his face in the crook of Geralt's neck Jaskier took a few shuddering breaths. He wanted to apologize for everything. He wouldn't. Geralt hated it when he did that. He stole few more moments before leaning back.

"Everything alright?" Geralt asked, eyes searching.

"Yeah. Better," Jaskier said with a small smile.

"Good. Now, eat. I haven't forgotten about the lunch."

"Yes, yes," Jaskier huffed good-naturedly, reaching for his plate.

Everything still tasted like ash. Disappointing. But he did his best to finish it all, taking it slow to give his stomach time to adjust. Jaskier had to admit that without Geralt judging him completely silent yet loudly he would have given up halfway through. It was just taking so frustratingly long.

"I need to go talk to Brajan about not being able to perform right now," Jaskier mentioned, pressing his tender fingertips together. Not as painful anymore but lute strings might do actual damage if he played long enough for a proper performance.

After collecting their empty plates and cutlery Jaskier stood up and walked to the door, waiting for the Witcher to exit first.

He'd work on not trailing Geralt everywhere later.

"Hi, Ella. Is Brajan here?" Jaskier asked when they reached the counter.

"Dad is at the stable," Ella informed them before looking at him pleadingly. "Jaskier, please come sing that Mud Wolf song and tell how the hunt went soon. Anja has been insufferable."

"Uh, sure…" Jaskier said taken aback while Geralt gave a groan at the mention of the ditty. "I'll do that. Later. You said Brajan is at the stable, right?"

"Yep."

"Thanks."

As they headed to the stable Jaskier looked at Geralt. "Are you going to take Roach for a ride? I could saddle her while we're there."

"You shouldn't be alone," Geralt stated.

"Geralt… Don't. We can't fall back into not separating at all. It's not good for either of us," Jaskier countered. "Yes, I'm a nervous wreck. But I have to start trying to be a more independent one. We clearly saw that. It just… Everything that happened during the hunt just was too much at once."

It was a miracle his voice didn't break. Thinking about starting to rely less on Geralt was enough to make his anxiety spike. But it had to be done.

They couldn't continue like this.

He couldn't continue like this.

"Has to be small things first, I guess. Like not letting you stop taking time for yourself. Maybe order food without you coming with me," Jaskier mused. This time his voice was starting to crack.

Gods, he hated being this weak, this ruled by his fear. He should be over it already. Yet here he was, still stuck and lost, not knowing how to move on.

"Beads."

"Oh, shit," he hadn't noticed having almost bitten what was left of his nail again. Apparently having done it for a couple of days had been enough to kick-start the bad habit again. "Need to pay attention to that."

Geralt kept watching him with a clenched jaw.

"I'm serious. We need to start doing something about my unhealthy dependency on you, Geralt," Jaskier said quietly just before they entered the stable.

"Hi, Brajan," he greeted the innkeeper cleaning one of the stalls.

"Hello. Nice to see you up and about. Feeling better I hope?" Brajan asked and stopped working.

"I do. But I, uh, I won't be able to perform for a little while," Jaskier informed him hesitantly.

"Is something wrong?" Brajan inquired, starting to study him with a concerned frown. It was a far too familiar expression by now.

"Not exactly. I just… I, umm, my fingers. I kind of- Uh. My fingertips, nails, are in a too bad shape to do it," Jaskier said, feeling self-conscious and embarrassed. He really was useless, even sabotaging his own work.

"Oh. You must let them heal then," Brajan agreed, zeroing in on his fingers. Seemed to be an involuntary reaction since the innkeeper moved his gaze back to his face quickly. "Please, don't worry about performing. Or feel guilty for not being able to do so currently."

Too late, he was already feeling guilty.

"...Thank you," Jaskier felt like shuffling his feet. He abstained. "Just wanted to let you know we'll be paying in the normal way for now."

"Have you met Roach?" he added after a brief silence, gesturing to the mare.

"So this is her," the innkeeper smiled, going to stand in front of her stall.

"Don't touch Roach," Geralt ordered, brushing the mare.

Which was a fair warning. Roach was very particular about who got the privilege to do so and was ready to bite or kick to make it clear when the mood struck her. Like any lady, she had to be wooed first. Outside of that she was perfectly well behaved.

"I don't have anything to give you," Brajan apologized to Roach as she stretched her neck to sniff at him. "You must be quite something to keep up with those two."

"Hey, Geralt. You never answered me. Do you want me to saddle Roach for you?" Jaskier realized, turning to the Witcher. "I'll unsaddle her too if you come fetch me afterwards. You still shouldn't be lifting anything."

"I'm fine."

"Not an answer."

"...Fine. Do it," Geralt grumbled, clearly irked.

"Are you hurt?" Brajan asked. Jaskier couldn't help but be glad the innkeeper's worried expression was for once not aimed at him.

"Hmmm."

"Geralt tragically lost a piece of himself," Jaskier informed Brajan, doing his best to keep his voice light and airy. It was easier to make fun of it than actually think about what happened. Or what almost happened.

"That doesn't sound good," Brajan blinked surprised.

"Hnn."

Ah, dear Geralt. Always so verbose when talking about his health.

"Well, I'll leave you to it," Brajan said, looking at Geralt sceptically. Probably trying to figure out whether or not the missing piece was literal or not.

As the innkeeper left to continue working, Jaskier grabbed Roach's bridle to put it on the mare. After giving a kiss on her muzzle for being so cooperative Jaskier did the same with the saddle.

"Geralt, take it easy and let Roach do most of the work. You don't actually regenerate, no matter how fast you heal," Jaskier reminded, tightening the girth.

"And," Jaskier added, turning to point a finger at Geralt. "If you pop your stitches I'll finish what the graveir started."

"Bite me to death?" Geralt huffed.

"Don't be daft. Obviously I'd stab you. One outfit ruined by your blood is more than enough."

"Obviously."

Dropping his imperious tone Jaskier reached out. "May I kiss your hand?"

"Yes," Geralt answered, expression melting.

"Do be careful, Geralt. Don't hurt yourself by pushing too hard," Jaskier said sincerely after pressing a lingering kiss on Geralt's knuckles. "I'll await for you to return hale and whole."

"You too. Don't be reckless, Jaskier. You have limits, fucking listen to them," Geralt replied softer than his words belied, starting to lead Roach outside. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back at the inn! And look at that, they didn't attract extra trouble!


	73. Chapter 73

The thought of starting to let Jaskier out of his immediate vicinity more often was both worrying and a relief. Mostly a relief. But fuck if the bard wasn't a beacon for trouble. Even when he didn't purposefully seek it out.

"You definitely hoofed the line this time, Roach. Why the fuck did you think it was a good idea to go along with Jaskier's plan to try burning _a fucking graveir_ to death with _a lantern_ , huh?" Geralt grumbled as they walked along a forest trail. "You better have been ready to carry him the hell away from there if it didn't succeed. _It shouldn't have succeeded._ That fucker must have been ready to die within minutes without interference since that was enough and it didn't kill you. Doesn't matter they're weak to fire. That _shouldn't_ have done enough damage."

"You know better than that Roach. Out of two of you, I trust you to have more sense than the bard. But thanks. For dragging my ass back to the farm."

"I was worried after the contract that Jaskier had done lasting harm to himself with the way he stopped taking care of himself, started biting nails again too. What kind of a fucking idiot stops sleeping for three days on purpose? How the fuck did he even manage it? I don't think for a second he ate much at all either. He better not pull that shit ever again," Geralt snarled, not having to censor the venomous bite out of his words. "Jaskier is a fucking disaster. Always has been. Just completely different kind than what he thinks."

"At least he's in a good mood today. And fully present. Guess sleeping for almost a day helped," he continued more amicably and turned Roach off the path.

It'd be more interesting to walk in the forest. Better workout for Roach too to combat the leisure pace they were meandering around aimlessly. Maybe he could start taking longer rides now, get more sword practice in. Maybe. He'd give it a few more days to see how things would go before doing so.

Fuck.

They really were codependent. Jaskier out of fear and he out of worry. The bard was right. They needed to finally start seriously address the issue.

Should be possible now that Jaskier had outside support too and they were staying in one place semi-permanently for now, giving the bard a sense of familiarity. Security. He wouldn't be forced to just suddenly handle everything alone. It hadn't gone very well at any point. Too much at once like Jaskier had said.

Small steps, small steps.

Fuck but he just wanted Jaskier to be fine.

There wasn't much he wouldn't do to ensure it.

"Thank you, Roach, for giving Jaskier what I cant," it was good Jaskier could interact with the mare normally. Maybe showing even more affection than usually. Jaskier had to be absolutely touch starved by now with how tactile the man used to be.

At least that was slowly getting better, Jaskier being able to handle more and more physical contact. He'd get there.

Even if Geralt wasn't sure where the there would be.

Didn't matter to him as long as Jaskier was happy with it.

With a sigh Geralt patted Roach's neck. She was such a steady presence among all this.

There was a scent of still water in the air so he started to head that way to check it out. It was always nice to have some sort of a purpose or destination. Something concrete among all the aimless wandering around the continent in search of work. The scent lead them to a small lake, not much bigger than a large pond but the water seemed to be in good condition. No signs of drowners either this time as they circled it.

Satisfied, Geralt turned Roach around to return to the inn.

Jaskier wasn't sure what he was supposed to do now that he was alone. Except to get the hell away from the open space of the small stable yard.

Just because he was sure they needed to finally start separating more didn't mean that his anxiety wasn't getting worse without Geralt. And staying outside alone wasn't safe at all, no matter how much he tried to reason against the fear of it.

Fuck, he was ridiculous.

Maybe knowing that the feeling wasn't the truth was progress?

Clutching his beads with shaking hands Jaskier hurried inside as images of his time at the farm threatened to resurface. It had been awful.

How nice to have variety.

"Ella, can I please go to the kitchen?" Jaskier asked with a voice that had also started to shake.

Someone would be there. It'd be the safest place. He couldn't be alone right now. He needed to process everything that had happened. He couldn't do that while feeling unsafe and far, far, too vulnerable.

"Sure. Mom and Lena are there," Ella nodded, lips pursing in concern.

"Thank you," Jaskier said, dashing to its threshold before stopping to ask for permission to enter. The moment he got it, he continued his hurried steps until he could sit down at the table and press his back against the wall.

Placing his forehead against his folded forearms resting on the table, he started to take slow and deep breaths.

"Are you alright?" Zofia asked kindly.

"...Yeah…" he'd be soon. This wasn't an attack, only a… prelude to one. It shouldn't get worse now that he was able to start calming down.

Hopefully.

"...Just… need a moment."

"Take as long as you want," Zofia said, returning to cooking.

"Here's water if you want it," Lena informed him, as something was placed on the table.

"Thank you," for more than the water.

This family was kinder than he deserved.

It didn't take as long as Jaskier had thought it would to be able to breathe normally without having to consciously control it. He didn't move for a while longer to be sure it'd stay that way. It was nice, having been able to stop a panic attack from forming completely. Maybe he'd start to manage doing so more often.

Finally feeling calmer, Jaskier poured water for himself and turned to see what the women were doing.

"Feeling better?" Lena inquired, noticing him lift his head up.

"Yeah, I do," Jaskier murmured, taking a sip to chace the tight feeling lingering in his throat away. "Thanks for letting me come here."

"Of course. You're always welcome," Lena told him with a warm smile. "I didn't have time to say this earlier but thank you. For stopping that man from pulling me on his lap. It's always irritating when customers act like that. And, unlike dad, I don't mind that you punched him."

"Lena!" Zofia scolded her daughter.

"Mom, we both know you don't mind it either."

Zofia was clearly trying to avoid smiling at that. So she turned around before she could crack.

"Oh. You're welcome. I'd do it again," Jaskier said before realizing the sentiment that slipped out.

"Please don't," Zofia tried to sound stern but the barely contained laughter ruined the effect. "But I too am thankful. And so is Brajan even though he does mind the punching part."

Jaskier hummed in a reply and rested his head against his hand. He was suddenly feeling drained, the rising panic having stolen what energy he had gathered during sleep. It really had been a bad idea to stay awake for so long. Even though it had been necessary, no matter what Geralt insisted. They hadn't been safe. They hadn't.

A cold shiver of fear ran down his spine, making Jaskier close his eyes in an attempt to will it away.

Geralt was alive.

Nothing had been done to them.

To him.

Geralt didn't hate him for what he had done to keep him alive. Wasn't rejecting him.

Things had turned out alright.

He had been terrified the whole time. It had been the fear fueling him to manage until they were safely at the inn again.

He should be able to let it go now. He couldn't. Not yet.

At least Geralt was alive.

"Is there anything we can do?" Zofia's voice interrupted his spiraling thoughts.

Oh. He had slumped to rest against the table again.

"No, thank you," he'd feel better once Geralt returned and he could see the Witcher was walking around and not dead.

Taking a deep breath Jaskier straightened his back again to sit properly. He had no idea how long it had been since Geralt left. His sense of time had stopped working again. Frustrating but not particularly important.

Jaskier wondered if he should go spend some time alone, try to get used to it. He had to face it eventually. Stop bothering everyone with his clinginess. But everything in him rebelled against the idea. He had been forced to be alone too long at the farm. Unconscious Geralt didn't really count for having company. Except in the worst way.

He needed a little more time before doing so.

"Are you sure it's fine I'm here?" Jaskier had to check. "I'm not in the way?"

"No, not at all."

Jaskier tried very hard to believe it.

He had given up on sitting upright by the time Geralt returned, too tired to care about the way he was slumped against the table, cushioning his cheek on his arms.

"Hi. Did you have a good time?" he asked, lifting his head to see Geralt better. The Witcher appeared to be in one piece.

"Hmmm."

"You didn't unsaddle Roach, did you?" Jaskier asked in a slightly threatening tone.

"No," Geralt sounded like doing it was all he wanted from his life.

"Good," the Witcher had listened. Heading to Geralt, Jaskier gave a beginning of a smile to Lena and Zofia. "Thank you for letting me stay."

"Of course. You're welcome anytime. Both of you," Zofia said warmly.

As they walked to the stable, all Jaskier wanted was to press himself against Geralt. To feel the movement of his chest, hear the slow but steady heartbeat. To reassure himself that the Witcher really had survived, wasn't still bleeding out. There was a part of him that kept constantly expecting Geralt to suddenly disappear or drop to the ground, all life leaving him.

He'd ask for a hug later. There was Roach to be taken care of first.

"Hello, Roach dearest," Jaskier greeted the mare, giving her a few scratches before starting to remove her tack.

"I found a lake," Geralt informed him out of the blue.

"That's nice," Jaskier commented, taking the bridle off. "Did it have drowners like last time?"

"No. Do you want to go swimming tomorrow if it's sunny?" Geralt asked, studying him.

The bridle fell to the ground as Jaskier's grip loosened in surprise. It was so unexpected that Geralt offered him again a chance to go even close to a body of water, let alone get in. It had to be difficult for Geralt to see him wade into deep water to swim. To bathe.

He could get clean.

Wash away the stains and touches.

For a little while at least.

" _Yes_. Yes. I'd love to," Jaskier said almost reverently.

Geralt gave a satisfied nod before looking pointedly at the bridle on the ground. "Pick that up and clean it. Roach isn't going to get dirt in her mouth because of a filthy bit."

"How dare you suggest I'd ever let that happen?" Jaskier huffed, going to clean it before hanging the bridle next to the saddle. After giving final pats to Roach they headed silently to their room.

The moment the door closed, Jaskier lost his willpower and turned to look at Geralt pleadingly. "Can I please have a hug?"

"Always," Geralt said, reaching out to him invitingly.

Hugging the Witcher as tightly as he dared, Jaskier buried his face in the crook of Geralt's neck to block rest of the world away. He didn't want to deal with it. Geralt was holding him lightly with one arm, thumb rubbing his shoulder blade soothingly. It made him want to melt into the Witcher's chest and never let go.

"Jaskier, is something wrong?" Geralt asked softly.

Everything continued being wrong.

"Mhmmm."

"Then tell me."

"Just …scared," Jaskier mumbled, cheeks heating up. There was no reason for feeling like that.

"You're safe. There's no threats," Geralt reassured him, his whole hand joining the small movement. It was okay.

"...Yeah. It's- what happened at the farm was a lot. I guess I just need little more time to make sense of it," it had been too much. Without a doubt. But he had somehow gotten through it. Jaskier wasn't sure how. Things had started to get a bit blurry after Geralt stopped dying.

"Hmmm. Then you'll take all the time you need."

So practical and straightforward.

"Don't die. Don't you dare to die," Jaskier whispered, holding tears back.

"Jaskier…" Geralt sounded almost pained.

"I know. I know you can't promise that," Jaskier allowed. "But try. Do your best to come back. Each and every time. Fight."

"That's what I do."

"May I kiss you?" Jaskier asked barely audibly, leaning back just enough to be able to look Geralt in the eye.

Geralt's breath hitched for a second in surprise, gaze moving to Jaskier's lips. "Yes."

Slowly, Jaskier gave a small peck on Geralt's lips, barely a brush. He wasn't sure if it even counted as a kiss. But he couldn't handle more, no matter how badly he wished to.

Somehow Geralt still seemed to enjoy it.

Thankfully.

The fact that Jaskier had kissed him again was starting to sink in. It felt like a revelation. Geralt didn't care it had been more of a shared breath than a press of lips. The physical sensation wasn't what mattered.

It was the deep trust and love that the kiss represented.

He hadn't had a clue how badly he had craved for a bond like this until it had slowly formed during the years of knowing the bard.

Jaskier had taken a step back and they were just looking at each other when Geralt decided to broach a subject he had meant to bring up for a while. "You should touch me."

The effect was immediate. Jaskier took a few more steps back, body stiffening and expression turning shuttered, eyes darting between him and the door.

Fuck, that was worded badly. Especially with the timing.

Groaning at his misstep, Geralt quickly explained. "Shit. Didn't mean to say it like that. I've been thinking about how you're more comfortable doing that than the reverse. We saw it trying that arm touching thing. You should first keep getting more comfortable with touching me before I try something like that again."

"...Oh…" Jaskier gave a breath of relief and relaxed.

"You probably need to be in control," Geralt finished.

"Mmmm, I guess. I don't really feel like I have any most of the time anymore," Jaskier mumbled, going to sit on the bed.

"You do."

He got just a shrug.

"Jaskier, you're in control of what happens to you. You can choose. You can say no," Geralt said evenly and forcefully.

"I know that in theory," Jaskier nodded, fidgeting with the beads. "It's the believing, actually feeling it, that's lagging behind. Doesn't help there's so much going on in my head, in my body, that's out of my control."

That did make sense.

"I can't do it now, can't handle more contact. I'm sorry," the bard said after a brief pause in conversation, looking down at the floor.

"Don't apologize. You can do it at your own time. If you even choose to do it. You can refuse. Or change your mind at any point. Always. And I didn't mention it to get you to do it right now," Geralt stated, crossing his arms.

"Okay, thanks."

It was hard as hell to figure out whether or not Jaskier really believed that. And there was nothing he should be thanked for either. But it was better than the never-ending apologies so Geralt decided to let it go. This time at least. He'd mention it if that too started to form into a compulsion. Jaskier had enough of those already.

"Maybe later," Jaskier said and flopped bonelessly onto his side, closing his eyes. He looked fucking exhausted again.

"Take a nap," Geralt said as he eyed the bard critically.

"...Not a bad idea," Jaskier agreed, sounding sleepy before snapping his eyes open and standing up suddenly. "Oh, shit. I'm hogging the bed again. Geralt, you need rest too. Go lay down."

"I'm fine, Jaskier," maybe not healed but still fine.

"Agreed, you're a very fine man. A fine man who needs rest to stay fine," Jaskier grumbled, quickly spreading his bedroll out and laying down on it.

That was a totally unnecessary amount of _fines_.

"I'm serious, Geralt. Rest. I know you're still far from healed," the bard continued, gesturing between Geralt and the bed. "Since I'm going to try resting, you should do the same. This is the only kind of sleeping together that's happening for now."

Geralt couldn't contain an amused huff at that.

"Fine," he said with a pointed look, going to also lay down.

Geralt woke up to the sound of Jaskier trying to stifle quiet cries. He never wanted to hear it again.

He knew he would.

"Jaskier? What's wrong?" Geralt asked, moving to sit just within arm reach from the bard.

"Who am I?" Jaskier mumbled through his tears.

"What?" _the fuck?_

"I don't know who I am anymore. It's like- it's like Marden killed or, or, destroyed most of me. And now I don't know how to get those pieces back," Jaskier explained, sounding desperate. "I don't know how to get back to before."

"Jaskier, you won't be the same," Geralt said steadily, heart aching for the bard. Ignoring the small wounded noise Jaskier made at the words he continued. "You're going to carry this with you for the rest of your life. Of course it's going to change you, all experiences do that. But you're still you."

"Trust me, I know a thing or two about being fundamentally changed," he added.

"Was it hard?" Jaskier asked, still not looking at him.

"Hmmm. Not something I like to reminisce about."

"Me neither. But I can't stop rewinding it over and over again in my head," Jaskier admitted, curling tighter into himself. "It's like everything I am is revolving around it."

"Jaskier, you're not your trauma," Geralt assured him.

"Sure feels like it."

"Your feelings are unreliable."

"Thank you," Jaskier said dryly.

"You're constantly on alarm, looking for threats. Of course your body is going to send false signals since there's nothing to actually fight," Geralt huffed.

"Oh."

"Is that what causes the panic attacks and flashbacks?" Jaskier asked hesitantly after a pause.

"Maybe. They could be a fight or flight reaction gone wrong," Geralt mused.

"I really hope so," Jaskier sighed.

"Hmmm?"

"...It'd mean I'm not insane…" Jaskier whispered so quietly Geralt had trouble hearing him.

"Fuck, Jaskier. You're not insane. Have you been thinking that the whole time?" Geralt ground out, fists clenching.

"Do sane people lose all touch with reality? Feel like they are reliving the past again? Forget they have a body and startle back into it in a place they don't remember going to?" Jaskier snapped. "Without mind altering substances that is."

"Jaskier, listen to me. You. Are. Not. Insane. I don't claim to know what makes those happen but they don't mean you're losing your mind. I actually think the spacing out is a defense mechanism, a warped way for you to take a break," Geralt tried hard to keep his voice level. "Would you call me or anyone else insane if they were struggling to deal with the same things as you?"

"...No."

"Then what makes you so special that it doesn't apply to you?"

Geralt could see Jaskier fidgeting fervently with his beads while staying silent.

"Tell me."

"I should be over this already. I did- I did say I'd do anything. There weren't good choices. But it still was one, even if it didn't feel like it. Didn't sound like one. But I should be able to live with it," Jaskier finally said, voice breaking.

For a brief moment Geralt truly wanted to punch the bard.

Instead he took a deep breath through his nose and exhaled slowly out of his mouth. At least Jaskier had been honest when saying he wouldn't be able to keep believing that he wasn't at fault.

"Are we really having this conversation again?" Geralt asked as calmly as he could.

"No."

"That was rhetorical. I'm going to repeat this as many fucking times as you need to believe for good that you're blameless," Geralt stated heatedly. Shit, his calm was cracking.

"Jaskier. There were only two outcomes. Submit or we both are killed. That's coercion. You can't consent if you're coerced," Geralt didn't know how to put it in any simpler words. It was fucking frustrating how there seemed to be a disconnection between the facts in Jaskier's mind. "You didn't consent. Marden had no right to do any of it. Nothing, _nothing_ , you did was the reason."

"I'm sorry I struggle with this. Even when you and Brajan keep saying that," Jaskier muttered, still avoiding looking at him.

"Don't apologize. You're not done with processing things. You will and I'll be here to help you no matter how long it takes," Geralt said, getting his voice back under control. He would never understand what Jaskier was going through, not really. Wouldn't stop him from trying.

"Thank you. It's just… It has been a fucking long time already. I'm exhausted feeling like this. I just want it to be over," Jaskier croaked, voice thick with tears threatening to fall again.

"If I could, I would make all that shit disappear. But I can't. I can only support you as you work through things. It's really fucking hard on you but you're doing good, Jaskier," Geralt assured the bard, wishing him to believe.

"I just want to be able to go out without fearing for my life. To be able to interact with people," there came the tears again. "Is it really too much to ask for?"

"You are going out and interacting with people, Jaskier. So what if you still need me to accompany you?" Geralt had to wonder how the bard could be so blind. "And you're spending time with the inn family. Without me. That's huge, Jaskier."

"I… guess."

"I'm not guessing. I know."

That earned him a wet chuckle and Jaskier finally looking at him.

"I'm sor- Thank you, Geralt. For listening even when I run in circles. It's just hard to keep my head straight when my thoughts tend to spiral," Jaskier sighed, sitting up from the curled up pose and tried to wipe his tears away.

"Always."

It was the fucking truth.

Jaskier wasn't sure what he was meant to do with himself now. Maybe sleep his life away. But Geralt was still watching so he didn't lay down again.

"Geralt, are you sure I'm not insane?" Jaskier backtracked a bit, hoping to quell at least one of his fears.

"Not any more than the day we met," Geralt deadpanned.

"That's very kind of you. Thank you for your sweet words, Geralt," despite the haughty tone Jaskier did mean it.

In a strange way those joking words were almost more reassuring than what Geralt had said before. If it was truly an issue Geralt wouldn't be making digs at it. The Witcher wasn't cruel. Which meant that Geralt at least honestly didn't think he had lost his mind somewhere along the way. Nice to know his lack of rationality wasn't that badly gone. Maybe one day he'd find it from wherever it was currently hiding.

"Since you keep repeating I'm doing good, maybe it'll please you to hear I managed to cut a panic attack at the bud before it had time to bloom into a proper one," Jaskier said, studying Geralt's expression closely.

He could have sworn there was a flash of pride lurking in the Witcher's eyes.

Perhaps it had been a bigger achievement than he had thought. Geralt wasn't easy to impress.

"That's what I mean, Jaskier. You're starting to recognize the warning signs and know what you need to do about them. That is progress," Geralt explained.

It probably should feel patronizing with the way the Witcher was spelling things out for him. Except, it helped.

"Do you think I'll ever stop having panic attacks and flashbacks. Or get rid of the anxiety and depression? Be able to function again?" Jaskier asked, apprehensive of the answer.

"Can't promise that you won't have them ever again. But I know you'll be able to start living more freely," Geralt said as if he was stating a universal truth.

Jaskier truly appreciated that Geralt didn't offer empty platitudes or unrealistic promises. As much as he craved for reassurance, those weren't what he wanted. Or needed.

"I hope so. It feels like I'm still a hostage. Except it's my own mind keeping me captive," Jaskier confessed, tangling his fingers tightly into the beads to keep them away from his teeth.

"Jaskier…"

"Oh well. We escaped. Maybe I'll eventually manage to do so again," Jaskier tried to brush it off. He was done with talking about his problems.

"Should we go eat?" that should distract the Witcher.

It did.

Taking a breath that Jaskier had hoped in vain to be bracing as they stepped into the tavern, he drew Geralt's attention back to himself. "...Geralt, could you go get us a table while I order?"

It was mortifying how badly the mere idea was affecting him.

There was a dinner crowd. He'd have to navigate through it by himself. People didn't grant him nearly as much space as they did for the Witcher. Someone might touch him. Even by pure accident.

Jaskier honestly had no idea how he'd end up reacting.

Except badly.

"You want to do it alone?" Geralt asked surprised.

Want was a strong word.

"...Yes…" Jaskier mumbled extremely unconvincingly.

"Corner table or one closer to the counter?" Geralt blessedly seemed to understand and didn't protest or make a comment about his faint voice.

"Corner," Jaskier said after a barely there pause. If he was going to do this then he'd do it properly.

Geralt looked him over before shrugging and started to slowly walk away.

Jaskier felt like he was frozen in place as he watched Geralt's retreating back. The small distance between them felt like miles.

He wasn't sure why this felt harder than the times he had went to seek help. Maybe it was because he wasn't currently panicked and desperate. Only scared. With careful steps and far too many flinches away from people Jaskier made his way to the bar, twisting and turning his beads constantly to keep his hands occupied.

"Jaskier, what can I do for you?" Brajan asked with a smile and eyes searching for Geralt.

It took Jaskier few tries to find his voice. "...Dinner, please."

"Sure thing. You probably want drinks too?"

"Ale. Tea," apparently sentences were out of his grasp. But he was still managing. Even if he sounded rude. The innkeeper would understand why. It was okay.

"Of course. I'll get them to you soon," there was a strange look on Brajan's face. If Jaskier was forced to name it, he'd have to label it as some sort of pride.

Which made absolutely no sense.

"Thanks," Jaskier said quickly and turned around to seek out Geralt after paying.

With hasty steps and even more flinching Jaskier reached the table and slid into an awaiting chair. Laying his arms and head on the table, he started to take slow and controlled breaths. This was pathetic. He hadn't even done much of anything yet here was, shaking.

"You did great," Geralt offered. He even sounded sincere.

"Mmmm."

"First time trying and you did it," Geralt continued.

"...Yeah…" it was true.

Jaskier wasn't sure if he'd ever get used to Geralt giving him pep talks. It was such an absurd concept. But the Witcher was surprisingly good at them. Perhaps it was because Geralt didn't hand out compliments easily or unnecessarily so when he did, they held weight to them.

"Maybe I'm not a completely lost cause, eh?" Jaskier tried shooting Geralt a teasing smile. It ended up as a grimace.

"You're not one, never been. Singing not counting," Geralt huffed.

"Rude. Just admit you like my voice."

"Never."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier, hon, you're not crazy. It's scary when things start misfiring in your brain but Listen to Geralt, ok. ;w;
> 
> Will be skipping Wednesday this week so next chapter will be up on Friday. ❤️


	74. Chapter 74

Jaskier wasn't sure if he had ever been happier about a sunny day.

There was nothing remarkable about the small lake Geralt had led him to.

It was all he had hoped for.

Boots already shed, Jaskier stood at the shoreline trying to decide whether or not to take also his doublet off. Getting rid of one unnecessary layer of clothing shouldn't be this fucking hard. It wasn't an armor, it did nothing to protect him. It was just fancy silk. Just a flimsy piece of fabric.

He could feel Geralt stare at him while simultaneously attempting not to. The Witcher was failing miserably.

With stiff fingers Jaskier undid the first two buttons. After a little while he opened it to just below his collarbone before stopping again.

Nothing was happening.

"Geralt? Is there anyone else than us here?" Jaskier asked, feeling foolish. He was almost sure there wasn't. But Geralt would be able to tell without a doubt if someone was even in the area.

"No."

In hurried movements Jaskier opened the doublet completely, shrugged it off, and waded into the water. Sinking shoulder-deep he could almost feel how the stains and grimy touches were washing away. He could get clean. Could stop wanting to crawl out of his skin. Could forget how Marden's hands had felt.

Taking a deep breath, Jaskier dived and let himself float underwater completely still except for the loose clothing billowing around him. Eyes closed this was as close to the temporary state of nonexistence that he could get.

Weightless, deaf, blind.

Only the temperature and the small movements of the water and clothing reminding him of the reality.

It was peaceful. So peaceful. Maybe he could live down here for the rest of his life. To literally float through it. Geralt wouldn't be on board with the plan, though. The Witcher was probably ready to wade in and drag him back to the surface any moment now.

Geralt was indeed standing knee-deep in the water, arms crossed over his shirtless chest when Jaskier finally breached the surface.

"Don't get your dressing wet," Jaskier called out, treading the water.

"Don't fucking live underwater," Geralt shot back.

Yeah, the Witcher definitely wasn't on board.

"Love the idea but sadly I'm no more of a fish than Roach is," Jaskier lamented and reached out with both hands. "Toss a soap to your bard, will you?"

"Not mine. Not anyone's," Geralt snapped.

"...Uh, right," Jaskier really had no idea how he was supposed to respond to that.

"No one owns you," Geralt stressed, throwing the bar of soap perfectly only to have Jaskier fumble and drop it.

"Right," Jaskier repeated before diving after the soap.

Resurfacing little closer to the shore to be able to stand, Jaskier studied him. They were still several feet apart, Geralt not coming closer or wading out of the water.

"We're still alone?" Jaskier asked, staring at the scowling Witcher.

"Yes."

Placing the slippery soap into his pocket, Jaskier removed his chemise. Trying to ignore the chill that had nothing to do with the temperature of the water and the building tremor in his hands, Jaskier quickly balled up the wet shirt and threw it towards Geralt.

They both watched as it fell short, landing in between them and slowly start sinking.

"I'm not getting it," Jaskier stated, hugging himself and staying firmly in the neck-deep water.

Looking into his eyes, Geralt started to slowly walk towards the shirt, towards him, each movement clearly projected and coordinated. Not hesitant but ready to back down any moment, at the first sign of disquiet.

Jaskier was convinced it wasn't possible to love someone more.

"Thank you, Geralt," he said quietly, taking a small step forward. And another, just far enough to bring his shoulders and collarbones above the water.

He was still too far for Geralt to be able to lunge at him.

Not that the Witcher ever would do so.

"Hmmm," Geralt hummed softly, eyes locking with his again after trailing down.

Jaskier wanted to stride up to the Witcher and kiss him, press their naked chests together, stumble their way to lay on the shore and forget where one ended and the other started, to never get up again.

Or rather, he wanted to want it.

He really, really, wanted to want it. But he didn't.

"What's wrong?" Geralt's voice interrupted the thought.

"Nothing," Jaskier shook his head.

"Don't," Geralt didn't have to be more specific anymore.

"Just thinking. About wanting to want have sex which I don't want. It's strange," Jaskier shrugged, averting his eyes and subconsciously taking a step back into the deeper water. "It's not normal. For me, I mean. I've always been a whore, happy to get on my knees for almost anyone. I just didn't get paid for it. Or so I thought, not sure about that anymore. Maybe I just didn't want to see the truth."

Ignoring the warning growl at the words emanating from Geralt Jaskier twisted his beads around, still idly scanning the shore to avoid looking at the Witcher. "Simply put, I want to want you since I've always wanted you but now I don't want to do anything about that want if I'm honest with myself."

"...That's a lot of want," Geralt said slowly.

"What can I say, I'm a greedy little shit," Jaskier acknowledged, finally meeting his eyes again. "Geralt, turn around. I'm going to bathe now."

It wasn't as if he was planning to strip more. But the mere action was something he was utterly incapable of even contemplate doing in front of someone else. Not even Geralt. Picking up the soap from his pocket, Jaskier watched Geralt head to the firm ground before turning his back to the Witcher. Ears pricked for any splashing that would warn him about someone approaching, he started to wash himself as quickly and throughout as he possibly could.

It was an immense relief to get rid of last of Geralt's dried blood clinging to him despite his attempts of getting it off. He really, really, had needed this after spending days in a bloodstained chemise hidden underneath a clean doublet before he had had a chance to change at the inn where it was safe to do so. It was a major miracle Geralt hadn't asked about the smell at any point. He didn't want to know what the Witcher's reaction would have been to learning he had been walking around partly covered in his blood. Maybe Geralt's nose had been fooled by the visible blood stains on his trousers.

Finishing up and feeling better than in a long while Jaskier turned around to spot Geralt petting Roach, looking away from him. After surveying the scene for a moment, Jaskier started to slowly get out of the water.

"Want me to move?" Geralt asked, still seemingly focused on the mare when Jaskier was wading tight-deep.

"...No," Jaskier decided eventually, having reached the shoreline. "Just don't touch me. Don't even ask to."

He was sure the shivers running down his spine had nothing to do with the wind meeting his wet skin.

With a body that didn't know whether it wanted to freeze up or run away Jaskier stumbled to the bags next to Geralt to snatch clean clothing to change into. The Witcher was studiously keeping his gaze averted and both hands visibly resting against Roach's neck, staying completely motionless.

As unthreatening as he could be.

Jaskier hated that he needed it.

"Let me take care of that?" Jaskier asked, pointing at the bandaging around Geralt's chest.

"Hmmm."

Popping the last piece of bread into his mouth Jaskier went to retrieve their medical bag, done with the lunch. Apparently Geralt agreed with the sentiment since the Witcher didn't complain about him doing so.

"Is it okay if I unwind the gauze now?" Jaskier checked, hands hovering just above it. Getting a consenting nod he started to briskly take it off, movements far too practiced and fingers deftly avoiding skin contact.

"You're still sporting a hole but it's healing well," Jaskier declared, peering at the wound before cleaning it after getting permission to do so. "Maybe, just maybe, it's doing so because you haven't popped even one stitch for a change, hmm?"

All he got in answer was a grunt.

For a brief moment Jaskier was about to make a joke about how communicative Geralt was being but the moment he turned back to the bite the urge to do so disappeared. No matter how flippant he tried to act, seeing the ugly wound kept filling him with unease. It had been a close call.

Far, far, too close.

"How are you feeling?" Jaskier asked, tone serious. "And don't blow me off."

"Fine."

"Geralt."

"I'm fine. You said it yourself, it's healing well," Geralt huffed. "Shouldn't tear open that easily anymore."

"You're still not going to be lifting anything. No saddles, no swords," Jaskier reminded him and started to re-dress the wound after a go-ahead before checking the almost invisible by now scratches on Geralt's shin.

"Only if necessary," the Witcher agreed.

"Only if I deem it necessary," Jaskier corrected with a huff, earning a deadpan look as Geralt put his shirt back on with some difficulty.

Fiddling with the beads, Jaskier sought eye contact. "I think I could do it now."

If Geralt's expression was anything to go by, the Witcher had no idea what he was talking about.

"Touching you," Jaskier clarified. "I feel clean, like I won't dirty you. Calm too."

That might be a slight over exaggeration but he had started calm, so it should count. And it was only a small uptick of anxiety at the moment. Barely there. "So, if you want we could try?"

"Are you doing this only because I suggested it?" Geralt asked seriously.

"No," Jaskier shook his head. "You just are right, it's easier for me to be the one initiating contact. To… feel in control like you said."

"Yes. I do want to try," Geralt informed him. "Jaskier, you have my consent to touch me anywhere and any way you want to."

It should sound silly, it did sound silly, phrased so plainly. But dear Melitele if it didn't help, Geralt leaving him no space for second guessing.

"Thank you, Geralt. Is it okay if I still ask you before doing something?" he was ridiculous. Who the fuck needed to have a whole conversation about terms and conditions of touching their significant other in the most innocuous sense? "And, uh, could you please refrain from touching me back? For now at least. I'm sorry for being selfish."

"You're not being selfish, Jaskier. This is something I want to do for you," Geralt said steadily. "With you."

The assurance was enough for some of the tension in Jaskier's shoulders to leave. "Thank you. So, may I hold your hand?"

That was safe and familiar.

Tracing idly over the scars and calluses of Geralt's hand, Jaskier centered himself. They were in no rush. He could take this slow. Try to make this something else than just a brisk exercise in anxiety management.

"May I kiss your hand?" Jaskier asked, giving a soft brush of lips against Geralt's knuckles at the Witcher's nod.

Jaskier wondered if Geralt was even aware of how soft his expression turned at the action.

"Forearm?"

Another nod.

Not letting go of Geralt's hand, Jaskier slowly trailed his fingers up and down, all over the Witcher's forearm over the shirt, watching out for any discomfort on Geralt's face. Nothing. He too was still fine. Stilling his fingers near the elbow, Jaskier continued. "All of the arm?"

A nod.

"A kiss?" Jaskier asked, returning to holding Geralt's hand with both of his instead of going higher. An actual small smile appeared on the Witcher's lips as he nodded once again.

Geralt too relaxed more as Jaskier bestowed another soft kiss, this one placed on a scar near the thumb.

"Arm," Jaskier whispered before slowly running his hand up until his fingertips briefly touched the shoulder.

This felt still safe.

After a while the same treatment was repeated on Geralt's other arm.

Sitting in front of Geralt and holding both of his hands Jaskier tried to decide if he wanted to try anything else or stop here.

"Can I- can I press your hand against my cheek?" Jaskier murmured, heartbeat kicking up.

"Yes," Geralt answered softly but watching him sharply. Apparently he had picked up on the change in anxiety levels.

Playing with Geralt's fingers but not moving otherwise, Jaskier took a moment to gather himself. Wanting Geralt to understand exactly what he would be doing, he continued after a pause. "Geralt… Marden touched my face. And I don't mean the punch. I understand if you want to back out, knowing that. I wouldn't want to touch my skin either."

"Jaskier," there was a pained bite in Geralt's tone. "Whether or not Marden has touched you holds no significance to my own desires. Nothing he did or could have done matter to me in that sense."

"...Really…?" Jaskier whispered, tears welling up.

"Really."

"Let me direct your hand, please?" Jaskier asked in a small voice, blinking rapidly. He was not going to cry.

"Of course," Geralt assured, letting his hands rest as deadweight in his.

Slowly, to give them both time to change their minds, Jaskier lifted Geralt's hand close to his face. Getting no protests, he took few deep breaths before gently placing it against his left cheek. Jaskier's vision was getting a bit blurry with the stubborn tears refusing to disappear but it was still easy to reassure himself that it was Geralt in front of him, not Marden. There was no one else those cat-like golden eyes could belong to. And there hadn't been any calluses or scars on the king's hands. They had been completely smooth. Not a single imperfection.

Jaskier felt terribly vulnerable with the way Geralt could just slip his hand down a little bit and clench it around his throat, strangling him.

It was disgusting how that was the first thing he thought about.

Jaskier quickly redirected Geralt's hand to the ground before letting go and shuffling out of the arm reach.

"Jaskier?"

Shaking his head Jaskier stayed silent, only lifting his own hand to guard his throat.

"I'm not going to hurt you," Geralt said calmingly.

"I know," Jaskier whispered, wrestling down his reaction and lowered his hand to clutch the beads. "I'm sorry."

Geralt gave a tired sigh.

"You were right about this way working better," Jaskier said after a while when his pulse had returned to normal. He didn't get closer. "It was comfortable, lovely. Until the cheek that is but I miscalculated."

"I feel like my world is divided in two, you know. Things that are safe and things that aren't. You are the safest, Geralt. Even when I sometimes react in fear to something you do or even just the proximity. And it was me doing this," Jaskier explained, wanting the Witcher to know, to understand, that it wasn't him he was afraid of. It were the memories and the echoes of physical sensations that still swirled around and creeped upon him.

"Hmmm."

"I love you, Geralt. Thank you for this."

"You're welcome."

 _I love you too_ , Jaskier translated.

"I mean it. You've been so good to me, so patient through all this. Believing in me when I have no faith or any idea of what to do," he continued sincerely. "Helping me. With everything, even the most basic things. I don't know why I can't take care of myself, I really don't. I want to."

It was shameful.

"Jaskier, you're depressed. It doesn't mean being sad all the time. It's much more than that, much deeper," Geralt said just as sincerely. "I've told you that I want to help you through this, to see you get better. It's still the fucking truth. I'm glad to do it."

Jaskier had to shake his head at that. "I can't believe you're happy to be burdened with making sure I even eat among everything else. It's frankly pathetic of me to need that."

Geralt was doing the familiar teeth grinding.

"Jaskier. Stop thinking about yourself like that. It's… Fucking hell. It's not your fault your focus and energy are diverted to other things. And you're making conscious effort to correct the problems. That's what matters."

"Mmhmm, I hope that's enough, trying." Jaskier murmured.

He really didn't know.

Fuck but it was hard to listen to Jaskier's doubts.

He would.

Until the end of the time itself if needed.

"It will be," Geralt assured. It was really fucking strange being the positive one.

Jaskier gave him a half smile and stood up. "We should go back. I don't know about you but I'm getting tired. Again."

"Sure, let's go. Want to ride Roach?" Geralt asked, following the example.

"No. I feel like walking."

"We can come back whenever you want to, Jaskier," Geralt said, shoving down the persistent niggling worry of seeing the bard wade into deep water. Jaskier jumping into that cursed river wasn't an image that was going to leave him anytime soon.

Nor had he been able to completely rid himself of the fear of Jaskier being suicidal on some level despite the bard's adamant protests. Him deciding to face a graveir unarmed and coming down from a panic attack definitely did nothing to assuage him of the chilling thought. Jaskier was far too reckless with himself.

"Really?" Jaskier whirled to look at him surprised, having attached the saddlebags back in place.

"Yeah."

It hurt seeing Jaskier still reacting so strongly to the idea of being able to choose.

Shit.

This situation was again starting to get to him. Maybe it was time to take a break.

Exhaling sharply Geralt started to lead the way through the forest, leaving Roach to Jaskier. The mare had been, continued being, incredible help and not only by offering lifts. The bard was always so relaxed and open when interacting with her.

"Mind if I get a drink or two alone?" Geralt asked as they started to near the inn.

"Of course not. That's going to be more interesting than watching me take a nap," Jaskier said. "You don't have to come to the room with me. Just stay in the tavern, okay."

"Jaskier-"

"No. I've started to feel safe at the inn. I think I might be able to fall asleep alone since I know you're still close by," Jaskier didn't leave him time to finish protesting.

Honestly, that'd be fucking great if it'd happen.

"Just don't get drunk," the bard continued, tone teasing.

"Hmph."

It didn't take long until they were separating, Geralt escorting Jaskier to the bottom of the stairs before heading back to the bar to get a badly needed drink.

"Drinking alone is a bit sad, you know. Not that I'm complaining since you're paying and therefore putting food on my plate," Anja announced, pouring him ale.

"Hmmm," the point of drinking alone was not having to socialize. Geralt was quite done with it for a while.

It was relaxing to just sit in the corner and have a couple of beers in silence. Ignoring the few dirty looks thrown at him had turned into an automatic habit many years ago, letting them slide off. This all was normal.

And normality was currently a rare thing.

It wasn't as if he and Jaskier hadn't traveled together for longer stretches of time than this. But even with the way they had constantly shared the space for even weeks on occasion in the wilderness it just wasn't the same. This was far heavier, far more desperate. Limiting like Jaskier had put it. Geralt couldn't help but wonder if he had been actually enabling Jaskier's social anxiety by almost constantly staying with him. It had been absolutely necessary in the beginning to keep Jaskier moving forward but they probably should have started confronting it systematically earlier.

It just was fucking hard seeing Jaskier so afraid and not take direct action to help.

But he did need to start letting go a little more, to not keep acting like a crutch. Not for everything.

Didn't mean he'd be abandoning Jaskier to try and inevitably fail dealing with all this shit alone, Geralt reminded himself. It would be small things at first, work their way up to bigger issues. Jaskier really did seem ready to tackle this. Had managed to order their dinner alone yesterday.

He'd just need to get used to the idea of not being able to constantly protect the bard again. Eventually. Geralt was absolutely sure neither of them were ready for Jaskier to go out for a walk alone or something similar. It'd probably work best to simply have some distance from each other for some tasks. Like they were currently doing. The fact that Jaskier trying to fall asleep was counted among those was kind of fucked up. But, what was, was.

Small steps, Geralt repeated to himself once again.

Honestly, he was always glad seeing the bard achieve those. Made him feel almost pride, knowing Jaskier kept fighting tooth and nail for each improvement.

Fuck it. He was proud, nothing almost about it.

And while the hunt had gone straight to hell Jaskier seemed like he had walked away from it with a little more confidence. Maybe it was mostly subconscious but Geralt was ready to bet that there was a part of the bard that realized that he had managed to rise above the fear and act when it had truly counted. It was probably what was fueling Jaskier to take these new steps.

Now if the bard just would take his head out of his ass and actually acknowledge the strength he had shown.

Finishing his second beer Geralt kept sitting a while longer, ruminating on the idea of leaving Jaskier unprotected. It was enough to make his jaw clench. Even though he was well aware that this inn was probably currently the best, safest, place for Jaskier. Outside of Kaer Morhen where there'd be no risks for the bard but that wasn't a viable option until winter.

Leaving the empty tankard on the table, Geralt headed back to their room only to be pleasantly surprised that Jaskier really was asleep. With silent steps he walked to the bed where Jaskier was curled under the covers looking relatively peaceful.

No nightmares currently then.

After retrieving his swords and the cleaning kit Geralt sat down on the floor, leaning against the bed. He was well aware there was nothing wrong with his weapons but cleaning them was meditative.

As irritating as it was, he didn't feel up to doing anything more strenuous either.

Fucking graveir.

It'd take a few more days to get back to full health.

"Geralt! I just realized something," Jaskier exclaimed, almost dropping his spoon he was eating breakfast with. Once Geralt gave him his undivided attention he continued with a widening smile. "I didn't have a panic attack yesterday. Didn't even get close to one."

"You didn't," Geralt agreed, looking also slightly surprised.

"Had actually a really good day from start to finish. Sure, felt anxious like always but it stayed mostly low. The whole day. I can't believe it," Jaskier said excited. "Holy shit. I'm getting a little better."

"Good. You're finally figuring it out," there was a smile lurking in the corners of the Witcher's mouth.

"I guess I am," Jaskier nodded, feeling like something monumental was happening. Even though it had been just a one good day.

But it was so much more too.

A spark of hope for one.

Maybe he really could claw his way out of this hell.

"Do you think days like yesterday will start increasing?" he really, really, wished they would.

"Yes," there was no hesitation in Geralt's voice.

"You know, right now I think so too. Please remind me I said that the next time I start feeling hopeless again," Jaskier said, knowing that would happen at some point.

"I will," Geralt sounded satisfied.

It was great to see the Witcher too was happy about this.

"Do you think it's a good idea to use this mood I'm in and briefly visit a bathtub?" Jaskier asked hesitantly. He wanted to do it but at the same time he didn't want to ruin his good mood. "I think I won't try to get close to it. Hasn't worked well at all so I guess it's time to change it up."

"What would you do then?" Geralt inquired with interest and a frown.

"Stare at it."

"Stare at it," the Witcher repeated.

"Yes. Try to get used to just seeing one. It's not like I'll be able to take a bath in one anytime soon so I guess there's no need to force myself to approach it yet," Jaskier explained, tapping the spoon against his bowl.

Geralt gave a slow nod. "We can do that. It's a better plan than before. Want to go after you've eaten?"

"Yep."

It still took far too long to finish eating compared to how little he had left. But eventually Jaskier trailed Geralt to the counter where Brajan had replaced Zofia.

"Morning, Brajan. Could we, uh, visit the bath again?" Jaskier asked quietly, pleased the words themselves had been almost easy to say.

"Of course," Brajan answered promptly, worry making its way to his face. "It's free at the moment. Do you want to use our kitchen afterwards again?"

"Yes, please. Thank you, Brajan," Jaskier said sincerely. "Sorry for the trouble."

"Jaskier, our kitchen chairs won't get worn out if you two use them for a bit," Brajan sighed good-naturedly.

"Still, thank you," Jaskier stated before starting to walk towards the bath with Geralt.

The closer to it they got, the more Jaskier's good mood drained away until he was once again highly anxious when he was standing in front of the bathroom door. He had hoped it'd have carried him a bit farther. Geralt was studying him, probably taking in the current anxiety levels to make it easier to make the call whether or not to get the hell out of the room later.

"Hand?" Jaskier offered his, knowing that he wouldn't be refused. Geralt did indeed take it before leading him in.

There the fucking tub was again.

Jaskier couldn't help but clutch Geralt's hand tighter as his heartbeat started racing and the familiar feeling of impending doom made itself known. He took only two small shuffling steps towards the bathtub before stopping, reminding himself that he didn't have to get closer.

He didn't want to.

No one was forcing him to do so.

He could stay right where he was.

It was ludicrous, absolutely horrible, how terrified he still was.

It was getting hard to breathe.

"...Ge-Geralt... Leave. ...I want to leave…" Jaskier managed to get out, frozen in place with fear and first tears escaping.

"Then we'll leave. Right now," Geralt's voice was a steady counterpoint to the swirling terror and anxiety.

Gentle tugs encouraged Jaskier to start taking shaky steps towards the door and from there to the kitchen. Everything was only blurry shapes, warped by the tears. He knew where they were. How they had gotten there.

"Hug me?" Jaskier mumbled through his crying, reaching out. He needed to feel safe.

"Are you sure?" Geralt asked, sounding slightly sceptical.

Words gone Jaskier simply nodded, hoping Geralt would agree. If the Witcher didn't feel like doing it, maybe he'd still talk to him, to tell him that everything was alright and he was safe.

"Then yes," Geralt said, hugging him one armed as lifting the left one high enough to reach Jaskier's shoulder blades would still make the bite stretch.

Clutching the back of Geralt's shirt Jaskier let himself cry against his shoulder, pouring out his fear and the frustration of feeling it even after all this time. It was a fucking bathtub, not something dangerous. There was nothing to be afraid of. He knew that.

He couldn't stop being so.

"You're safe, Jaskier. There's no threats, nothing will happen to you. It's safe, you're safe," Geralt murmured into his ear, offering familiar reassurances.

They helped.

It was easier to trust Geralt than his own reasoning.

Jaskier was more than aware that his head didn't work as it should, everything tangled and twisted.

"Mmhmm," he hummed as he started to calm down, tears slowing. He wasn't ready to let go of Geralt so he rested his forehead against him, drawing strength from the Witcher. Geralt didn't seem to mind.

"...Hi. Still a lot, apparently," Jaskier finally said as he took a small step back to break the hug. Rubbing at the tear tracks he continued. "But… I knew where I was, where we were going. Didn't lose track of the reality at any point. That's better than before, right?"

"It is," Geralt nodded, sounding sincere even though his tone was colored with the deep displeasure of doing this at all. "Go sit down. I'll get you water."

That was a good idea. Jaskier could feel his legs turning a bit shaky as his body started to come down from the state of heightened anxiety. It'd even out soon enough. But staying put really was for the best for now since there was no reason to rush.

"Thanks," Jaskier said as Geralt handed him a mug and sat down next to him. After drinking half of the water he turned to fully look at the Witcher. "Can I rest against you?"

Geralt blinked once before moving his chair close enough to touch Jaskier's. "Yes."

Giving a deep sigh Jaskier closed his eyes and left Geralt to bear most of his weight as he leaned against him, cushioning his head on the Witcher's shoulder.

He was safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier, aren't you aware that it's okay not to push yourself the moment you're feeling better?
> 
> Btw, just because Jaskier keeps using whore in negative way to talk about himself doesn't mean there's anything wrong with people choosing sex work.


	75. Chapter 75

Jaskier was a warm and too light pressure against his side. A reassuring one nonetheless. The bard didn't seem to be dozing exactly but he was close to it so Geralt did his best to stay still and not disrupt him.

Gods, he hated each and every time Jaskier decided to approach a bathtub. Hated seeing him so terrified. Hated how even the visual of it was enough to trigger Jaskier's panic so badly.

Absolutely hated not being able to do anything about it.

As much as he would like Jaskier to never get close to one he knew it wasn't possible. Or the healthy option. This wasn't about what he wanted, it was about what Jaskier needed. So he'd just have to grit his teeth and offer support. Trust that Jaskier knew what he was doing. Although, that one was difficult even on the best of the days. The bard had a habit of making questionable choices.

At least Jaskier was right. This time had gone slightly better. They should stick with Jaskier not approaching the tub until he could handle even seeing one. It was hard to understand how that could cause such a visceral reaction.

But it wasn't his place to decree what was an appropriate one.

Or ever say that outloud to Jaskier. The bard was already battling feeling ashamed of himself.

And Geralt was well aware that his lack of understanding didn't mean the effect on Jaskier wasn't valid. It was. So he'd just keep silent and try to learn to comprehend it. Possibly talk to Roach, she didn't judge. Much. Most of the time. …Or maybe, just maybe, to Brajan. As much as opening up to the innkeeper rebelled against his instincts it had helped the few times he had done so. There weren't really more options than those two. And only one could talk.

Jaskier had been deadweight against him for some time now. Perhaps he should rouse the bard and return to their room. Jaskier could continue resting there more comfortably. Before Geralt could do so Olga stepped in carrying sleeping Michal. For a second they stared at each other before Geralt made the universal sign of staying quiet, getting a nod in return. Watching her cross the threshold, Geralt came to a decision and gestured her to approach him. With slightly hesitant steps she did so.

"Olga, can I talk to you and Brajan after I get Jaskier back to our room?" Geralt whispered.

"...Sure," she said just as quietly, looking at him strangely.

"Good. Step out of Jaskier's eyesight while I wake him," it was absolutely unnecessary to pretend that the bard was fine.

"Hey. Jaskier, get up. Time to go," Geralt said, barely remembering to keep his voice down as to not wake Michal.

"Mphhh," Jaskier protested, squinting his eyes open.

"Olga is here, behind and to the right from us," Geralt informed him, not wanting Jaskier to startle.

"Oh. Hi Olga," Jaskier greeted, sounding still slightly out of it and turning to look at her.

"Hello," she greeted back, gently moving her baby into a better position.

"Sorry for being in the way. We'll leave now," the bard said quickly, standing up only to grab his chair for balance.

Geralt had to stifle a reprimand behind his teeth. Those fucking apologies.

"You're not in the way," Olga shook her head. "At all."

"Listen to her. I simply woke you up so we can go back to our room. You can continue sleeping there," Geralt stated. "Let's go."

Jaskier managed to fit in one more apology to Olga before they were out of the kitchen.

Once Geralt shut their room's door he shooed the still drooping bard to the bed. Apparently the visit to the bath had hit Jaskier harder than he had thought. Those never were easy but they hadn't woken up that long ago and the sleeping potion had secured a whole night's worth of dreamless sleep for Jaskier. Most likely the fucking stupid idea of staying up for days was still affecting the idiot.

"Rest," Geralt ordered, watching as Jaskier removed his boots before wriggling under the covers without a single protest. Once the bard seemed to be comfortable, he continued. "I'm going back down to talk to Olga and Brajan so you might wake up alone. If you need anything just shout, I'll hear you. Or come down to find me."

"Okay," Jaskier mumbled, eyes already closing. "Will do."

"See you soon," Geralt said before stepping out again, having to stomp down the reflexive worry of leaving Jaskier alone.

Brajan and Olga were already sitting at the kitchen table when Geralt returned. Taking a seat across them, he drew the tankard of ale left for him closer and studied the father and daughter. While Brajan looked simply curious, Olga appeared nervous as expected, playing with a beaded bracelet and avoiding his eyes.

"You wanted to talk to us?" Brajan prompted Geralt as he stayed silent.

"Yes."

"It'd help if you'd tell us the topic," Brajan said when he still didn't elaborate.

"Olga, what makes you anxious and why?" that didn't come out diplomatically. This was why he had tried to think how to say it. "You don't have to answer."

Better.

If Olga was anything like Jaskier then pressuring her to talk wouldn't lead anywhere. And he didn't want to be rude to her either.

Olga did indeed jolt at the frank question. "I, uh, well… Social situations are the worst part of it for me. That's why I stopped working here. I'm a weaver, can do that at home and the repetitive motions are calming. Helps me to empty my head from overthinking."

"As for why…" Olga trailed off, looking highly uncomfortable and clicking the beads on her bracelet against each other. "I don't know. It just suddenly got worse when I was fourteen."

"Hmmm."

"She never was a social butterfly even as a child. Too shy for it," Brajan added, looking at his daughter fondly.

There was a blush appearing on Olga's cheeks.

"What makes dealing with people hard?" Geralt wondered if he sounded as if he was interrogating her. Well, Brajan would interrupt him if he went too far and Olga wasn't able to say anything about it.

"That's a really personal thing to ask, Geralt," Olga responded quietly. "You're doing this for Jaskier, right?"

"Yes."

"Ask him. Ask what bothers him about different situations. Just because we share some of the reactions to things doesn't mean everything about us is the same," Olga redirected after exchanging a look with Brajan. She had taken the bracelet off to be able to fidget with it more easily.

"I've tried. I keep trying," Geralt said through gritted teeth to keep himself from snapping at her. "He doesn't know how to explain everything."

"It's hard to do. To explain, even to oneself," Olga nodded, keeping her eyes on the bracelet. "But I can't do it for him. Just… Keep asking him but don't demand. Jaskier really might not have the answers. It takes time to figure things out. Took years for me since none of us had any knowledge at the start. And there's never a point where it feels like I have all the answers."

"I'm sorry I can't help, I really am. So sorry," Olga finished, twisting her beads this way and that way. Geralt could hear how her pulse was picking up speed.

"It's fine, Olga," Geralt said calmly. "Thanks for coming to talk at all."

He could keep from pushing. If she thought there was nothing she could tell then there was no sense in trying to force her to stay and open up. Just having humored him was more than what the vast majority of people was willing to even consider doing.

"Sorry. Uhhh, do you mind if I leave…?" Olga asked hesitantly, making a vague gesture towards the door.

"Go ahead," Geralt nodded, trying to keep all of his frustration away from his body language and tone.

"I'm sorry," Olga muttered once again as she hurried out of the kitchen, her jewelry clinking cheerfully.

 _Fucking. Apologies._ Geralt hadn't been aware of how sick and tired he could be of a single word before all this started.

"She did try, Geralt," Brajan said evenly, studying him. Evaluating his reaction probably. Geralt wondered if they'd be kicked out if he was found wanting.

"I know," Geralt agreed and finally started on his forgotten ale. Placing the tankard back on the table, he gave an irritated huff. "I fucking hate not truly understanding what Jaskier is going through."

"Familiar sentiment," Brajan sighed. "It's terrible seeing people you care about suffer. Honestly, it was downright frightening when Olga started having her attacks. None of us knew what was happening. At first Zofia and I thought we'd lose her, that there was something wrong with the lungs and heart. Been bit of a hard journey for all of us."

The fear of losing a child must have been a horrible thing to go through.

"But things got better with time. Eventually we found a healer who knew what was happening and was able to help. It obviously wasn't some miracle cure and it took Olga a lot of work but she's able to live normally now. She has to be careful of some things and has rough patches but in general she's back in a place where things are mostly calm," Brajan continued seriously. "Yet, despite all the time and conversations we've had it's not as if we can truly know how it all feels to her."

Having Brajan opening up about his own experiences made things easier. Made Geralt feel less like he was voluntarily giving the innkeeper weapons to use against him.

"I just don't fucking get how Jaskier suddenly can't figure out that he's not less than before, that he matters. That he's important," Geralt vented heatedly. "He used to be a cocky bastard. Loved the spotlight and talking to people. Never shut up. I mi-"

No. He was not going to finish that sentence.

"Geralt, it's normal for you to miss how he used to be. That sounds like a radical change. And it was abrupt too, wasn't it?" Brajan said gently.

Well, fuck. The innkeeper had figured it out anyway.

"..."

"You do realize that's also a very common reaction to the kind of trauma Jaskier went through?" Brajan asked, still talking softly. "That it can make people try to find a reason why they were targeted and come to a conclusion that there has to be something very wrong with them. Because who could do such a thing to another person, to someone who is equal? Of course it's not true but…"

"I know. I know. And that's fucking frustrating because _I don't understand Jaskier's logic behind it!_ " Geralt snarled, feeling ready to tear his hair out. "I don't understand the mechanics that make him think so little of himself or which makes him so fucking terrified of a _bathtub_ that he gets panic attacks from seeing one. _I know_ a shit ton of his trauma is connected to things that happened in and around one. _I know_ it's a fucking strong reminder, has even sent him into flashbacks. _I know_ having triggers is normal. _I know_ his reactions are common, valid, and not weaknesses. _But I don't understand._ "

"I think that's why I don't know how to get through to him," Geralt finished lamely, out of steam.

"Well. That has been eating at you for a while," Brajan deadpanned. To the innkeeper's credit he didn't appear to be scared despite the outburst.  
Geralt guessed the feeling of trust was mutual.

Fuck.

He really did trust Brajan.

When the lingering doubts had disappeared, Geralt couldn't tell. But it was probably why he had chosen the innkeeper over Roach to vent to.

"Geralt, it's impossible to truly comprehend how devastating such a violation as Jaskier survived feels like since we haven't been through the same thing. And I pray no one we know, no one at all, ever will. We can only try, listen, and be there offering support for him. No matter how inconsequential it can feel," Brajan said ruefully.

The _we_ didn't escape Geralt's notice.

"And you have been massive help to him, Geralt. He's doing far better than when you first arrived. You had to even speak for him more than once. It was strange enough to stick with me," the innkeeper continued sincerely.

It was true.

Jaskier had improved greatly.

"Doesn't feel like I'm doing enough," Geralt scoffed. There had to be more he could do. Had to.

"Geralt, I honestly don't know what else you could possibly do. You're already taking care of him physically, offering emotional support, and helping him confront triggering situations. Being technically a caregiver," Brajan said with compassion. "If anything, you're taking on too much."

"No, I'm not."

"I do hope so. You're doing wonderful job Geralt but it won't help anyone if you burn yourself out. Let us help more," Brajan insisted with a stubborn look in his eyes.

"How?" Geralt asked, part of him eager while another bristled at the mere suggestion.

"That I'm not as sure. It'll depend on Jaskier's comfort levels, what he's willing to share or do," the innkeeper shrugged apologetically. "Maybe try to get him talk to me again or get him involved with the girls' antics. Anja especially has taken a shine to Jaskier, she'd be thrilled to get spend time with him. Most importantly, it'd get Jaskier up and about and interacting with other people than you."

"It's been… month and a half hasn't it?" Brajan counted quickly, using the disastrous one month anniversary as a benchmark. "That's a terribly long time to have only one person you can truly engage with. Jaskier has started to visit the inn's kitchen but it's mostly passive and driven by fear of being alone. Positive experiences with someone else than you should do him good."

"That's not a bad idea," Geralt nodded in agreement.

Should also help with the dependency issue. Just because they'd be apart didn't mean Jaskier had to stay alone. Having something social to do would be great.

Hopefully Jaskier would think so too.

Jaskier couldn't stop the flare up of anxiety when he woke up and Geralt wasn't there. It took him a minute or two to get it under control again and remember that Geralt was downstairs. Not dead. Not dying. Hadn't left him behind. The Witcher would return eventually or he could go to him.

Everything was fine.

Jaskier took another moment to calm himself down more now that he was fully aware of the situation before walking to his saddlebag to fish the poetry book out. He'd rather start working on a new song but the thought of actually doing so was too exhausting. He'd do it later. Eventually. Leaning against the headboard, Jaskier tried to focus on the words talking about stanzas in depth. It was relatively interesting if a slightly clumsy take on the subject but it did work as a distraction so he fought to concentrate and not constantly look at the door, hoping it to open and Geralt to step in.

He was fine alone. He was.

Needed to be.

Jaskier had managed to finish five pages which told him absolutely nothing about how long he had been reading when Geralt finally returned, looking more relaxed. Which was good, the Witcher didn't deserve being constantly stressed.

"Hi. I guess the talk went well?" Jaskier inquired, putting his book down on the nightstand and patted the bed in invitation.

"Hmmm," Geralt confirmed and sat down next to him. "Have you been awake for long?"

Only for a lifetime. "I don't think so."

"Geralt, do you mind if- Could we cuddle?" Jaskier asked, feeling suddenly embarrassed by the request. It had been such a hassle last time and ended up rather disastrously. Geralt probably wouldn't want a repeat.

He was ready to retract the request when Geralt answered, voice turning soft and sincere. "Of course. Should I get under the covers?"

Jaskier gave a relieved exhale and nodded. "Please."

He really wished to be ready for not needing some sort of a barrier between them. It felt such a silly thing. But that was his life now, full of ludicrous limitations and strange needs. So many small things making day-to-day life difficult. He'd just have to learn how to accept it, how to navigate. Not much else to do about it. Geralt was right, there was no going back to how things -how he- were before. No matter how badly the thought hurt.

Curling against Geralt's chest and making sure he didn't accidentally drape his arm over the bite, Jaskier listened to the steady heartbeat and treasured each breath that moved the Witcher's chest, glad to be finally able to do so. He had yearned for this since the first night at the farm.

"Thank you for staying alive," Jaskier whispered, turning his face up to be able to lock eyes with Geralt.

"I don't plan on dying," Geralt informed him seriously, making a small smile appear on Jaskier's lips.

"Thank you for that. And this," Jaskier added, giving a brief squeeze in emphasis. "I miss physical intimacy, no matter what kind."

"Jaskier, you don't have to thank me. I too enjoy this," Geralt said eyes soft.

It was honestly cute how the big tough Witcher turned out to be a cuddler. Although, maybe it shouldn't be a surprise with how little physical contact Geralt usually had. Being a Witcher didn't seem to cancel the basic need for touch.

"Keep talking to me. About anything," Jaskier requested. He didn't want to end up reacting like last time. And hearing Geralt's voice was grounding, making him feel safe and secure.

"What do you think about starting to spend some time with Brajan's daughters?" Geralt asked casually, keeping perfectly still. Jaskier couldn't help but worry if this really was pleasant for him.

"I don't have an opinion, really. Haven't thought about that," Jaskier shrugged, although his voice did get more hesitant. "But I don't see why not… Is that something you talked about with Brajan?"

"Among other things," Geralt nodded. "We think you should interact more with other people than only me. Brajan's family is a safe start."

They really had been talking about him then like Jaskier had guessed. He really didn't know what to think about it. He was honestly glad Geralt had support but… It also was unpleasant knowing people were talking about everything that was wrong with his head behind his back.

"Do something with them while I'm out. That way you don't have to stay alone. A couple of hours still pushes your limits. And what happened during the hunt definitely can't have helped," the Witcher continued. "We can work on that with smaller periods of time like we did just now."

"Are you going to make me a timetable?" Jaskier asked, sounding snappier than he meant to.

"Fuck no. I'm not your minder," Geralt huffed incredulously.

Good, they were on the same page.

Purposefully relaxing his tense muscles Jaskier shifted into a more comfortable pose, still draped over the Witcher.

"I think I could do that, spend some time with them," Jaskier agreed, getting back on track. "I trust the whole family."

"...But I can refuse, right? Leave if it turns out to be too much..? Or if I simply want to?" he absolutely despised needing the reassurance.

"Yes, Jaskier. You can. You should," Geralt declared forcefully. "Trust me, you won't have to do anything you don't want to."

"Thank you," Jaskier said sincerely, lifting himself up just enough to be able to properly look at the Witcher.

He suddenly wanted to kiss Geralt, to get even closer to him. He wasn't feeling particularly anxious either. But he didn't ask, didn't act on the impulse, rationality winning over the sudden desire. Jaskier knew it'd be a bad idea, one that would turn out to be too overwhelming in the worst sense if he did it. No kissing in bed while cuddling. Too many connotations. Instead Jaskier simply extracted himself from the cuddle so he could lay on his side next to the Witcher, taking his hand after a quick check.

"I love you, Geralt," Jaskier said, smiling softly. Seeing Geralt's suspicious expression he added. "I just like saying it outloud. I kept it all inside me for so long, unable to tell you that you hold my heart. And you deserve to hear that you're dearly loved, Geralt. I know it makes you a bit uncomfortable with how terribly rare such a sentiment is for you but I want you to know I love you and always will, with everything that I am."

Geralt didn't seem to know what to do with his face.

"Fuck off, bard."

Or words.

It was adorable.

Jaskier gave a bright peal of laughter and squeezed the Witcher's hand. "Never."

"You're a fucking menace," there was laughter in Geralt's eyes. "A pain in the ass."

"But I'm your menace," Jaskier crooned.

Geralt's relaxed expression morphed into a glower at the words. "No. You're not mine. You are not anyone's, Jaskier."

Jaskier couldn't stop himself from rolling his eyes. "Figuratively, Geralt, figuratively."

"Hmph." the Witcher appeared to be miffed about the wording anyway.

"Geralt, I'm a bit fragile at the moment but not _that_ fragile. I'm perfectly aware you don't own me and have absolutely no desire to own me in the first place. Not that you could even afford me," Well now. Apparently the good old defense mechanism of turning things into jokes was starting to return.

Geralt didn't seem to appreciate it. "Jaskier, I'm serious. You're not a thing that can be owned."

"Can we please not do this now?" Jaskier asked quietly, letting go of Geralt's hand. "I don't have enough energy to have a go at it."

The Witcher stayed tense but did nod and fall silent.

"Sorry I destroyed the mood," Jaskier muttered, throwing an arm over his eyes to block the world out.

"You didn't."

"Hmmm," he had definitely destroyed his own mood if nothing else.

"Where are you planning to go with Roach today?" Jaskier inquired after a moment, wanting to save at least some of the previous atmosphere. He really was great at sucking joy out of everything nowadays.

"Forest. It's quiet there," Geralt answered simply.

"Is this hard for you, staying here for so long?" Jaskier asked, trying to keep the creeping guilt away. "We could go camping again, get away from all the noise and smells."

"I'm going to sit up," Geralt stated before doing so. "Jaskier, will you drink sleeping potions if we're camping?"

"...I shouldn't use them all the time. I don't want to become addicted or something," Jaskier mumbled, staring at the covers and fidgeting with his beads.

"That's a no then," Geralt grumbled. "But you're right, you can't use them each night for too long."

"Camping on the nights when I wouldn't be taking a potion anyway? That way I don't have to worry about disturbing other customers and your senses get a break," Jaskier proposed, lifting his face again so he could lock eyes with the Witcher.

"Hmmm."

_A yes._

"Enough lounging!" Jaskier declared, clapping his hands and getting off the bed. "I'll saddle Roach for you and then go to the kitchen like you suggested."

"You don't have to."

Jaskier wasn't sure which one Geralt meant. Most likely both.

"I know, but I want to."

"Jaskier! Please, please, sing the Mud Wolf song and tell how the hunt went," Anja beamed the moment she spotted Jaskier appearing in the threshold for the inn's kitchen.

Honestly, if the girl didn't exude such sincere friendliness, she'd be downright intimidating with her enthusiasm.

"Come in," Brajan beckoned when Jaskier didn't immediately enter.

"Hi Brajan, Anja, Ella, Olga," Jaskier greeted, taking a seat at the table as usual. It felt strange to not arrive here barely hanging on to reality and ready to cry. Geralt and Brajan might have had a very good point about starting to socialize with people without being on the brink of a panic attack first.

Almost the same second he sat down, Olga got up and hurried out.

"Did I- Did I do something?" Jaskier asked, halfway to rising up, ready to leave.

"No, she's like that sometimes," Ella told him, barely glancing up from a shirt she was darning. "Don't worry about it."

"Eat," Brajan ordered, placing a slice of cherry pie and a mug of tea in front of Jaskier.

"...Thanks," Jaskier said, feeling self-conscious and worried that he had lost even more weight to make the innkeeper that adamant. He shouldn't have. And Geralt would definitely have commented but…

"Dad, can I-" Anja started.

"No. You'll wait until dinner. We'll see if there's some left then," Brajan stated and got back to work.

"Hah! Dad has a new favorite," Ella sniggered, only to have Anja elbow her half-heartedly.

This was embarrassing.

"Girls. Settle down," Brajan sounded both exasperated and fond in equal measures. "Unlike you, Jaskier is still a customer."

"Naaah, he's a friend who just happens to pay for lodgings," Anja drawled with a wink at Jaskier.

He didn't get to hear Brajan's answer as Olga returned, drawing their attention and briefly interrupting the conversation.

"Here," Olga said, offering a familiar looking beaded necklace to Jaskier after she had sat back down. "I fixed it."

"Oh, thank you. You didn't have to, Olga," Jaskier said surprised as she let the necklace fall onto his palm.

Olga shook her head. "It was only fair. I did cause you to break it."

"It wasn't your fault," Jaskier protested, placing the beads around his neck for safekeeping.

"Don't you two dare to get stuck into the whose fault was it circle," Anja groaned. "There's better ways to spend the time."

"Like-" she grinned, leaning slightly closer while using Ella as a support structure to do so. "finally hearing how the song goes."

Geralt might have had a point about not singing the ditty. There was no way Anja wouldn't at least hum it if not actually sing, causing it to start spreading.

It was perfect.

Jaskier could feel a smile forming at the thought.

"Well, who am I to deny a request like that?" Jaskier said, taking one more sip of the tea to wet his throat.

_"Mud Wolf, Mud Wolf_  
_Where have you been?_  
_Dirty paws and coat so grey_

_Mud Wolf, Mud Wolf_  
_What have you done?_  
_Field's only pits and holes_

_Mud Wolf, Mud Wolf_  
_What have you brought?_  
_Such a mighty beast and foe_

_Mud Wolf, Mud Wolf_  
_Wrestled with a worm_  
_Mud Wolf, Mud Wolf_  
_Almost bested by a worm_

_Mud Wolf, Mud Wolf_  
_You were white_  
_I could have sworn_

_Mud Wolf, Mud Wolf_  
_Wrestled with a worm_  
_Mud Wolf, Mud Wolf_  
_Almost bested by a worm_

_Mud Wolf, Mud Wolf_  
_Where are you going?_  
_Bath is the other way, the other way_

_Mud Wolf, Mud Wolf_  
_Turn around, turn around_  
_Bath is the other way, the other way"_

By the time the song finished, his singing was accompanied with bright laughter and cheering.  
It felt wonderful to see he still was able to bring joy to others. Just because his own heart was broken didn't mean that he wanted anyone else feel the same.

"Brilliant. Hey, Jaskier, do you think I'll get to keep my head if I sing that?" Anja chortled.

"The Mud Wolf might growl at you but nothing else. Do you want me to teach it to you properly?" Jaskier offered rather gleefully.

"Yes!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Geralt finally had some venting-time! Let it out, Geralt, let it out. And Anja finally got to hear the Mud Wolf song describing the hunt that happened in the 3rd installment of this series.
> 
> Btw, I won't have as much writing time this week either so next chapter will be up on Friday! 💕


	76. Chapter 76

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CHAPTER SPECIFIC TAG for attempted & thwarted substance abuse. 
> 
> Starts at "Axii me" and stops at "Without a word Geralt marched out of the room, taking the potion bag with him and slamming the door shut with enough force to make Jaskier's ears ring painfully." 
> 
> .

Geralt felt like growling as he heard Anja singing the Mud Wolf song quietly under her breath while mopping the floor as he and Jaskier were having breakfast.

"Why the fuck did you teach that song to her?" Geralt grumbled once again. It was impossible to keep the ditty from circulation now.

"She asked so sweetly," Jaskier said, poking at his food looking vaguely nauseated.

"Want to go for a walk? You didn't go outside yesterday. Walking to the stable and back twice doesn't count," Geralt asked, studying the bard. It'd probably be for the best to make sure Jaskier started to spend less time doing nothing. He'd just have to be careful not to push too hard and remember that Jaskier tired quickly.

"...Sure," the bard agreed, turning to look out of the window. "Should we go now?"

"Not yet," Geralt rebutted, nodding pointedly at the unfinished breakfast. A bad morning, probably. Jaskier had had slightly easier time eating in general lately.

"Fine."

Geralt waited patiently as Jaskier slowly struggled through the rest of the breakfast. At least his color was looking better by the time they left. Geralt wasn't keen at all for the bard to faint ever again from the lack of nourishment. Or any other reason.

"Feel up to walking around the town?" Geralt asked as they stepped outside.

"...No…" Jaskier mumbled, looking away.

"Hmmm."

A bad morning then, indeed. But Jaskier was still agreeing to spend some time outside and had been honest about his needs so that was good. Things could be far worse. Hopefully some exercise and fresh air would help.

"You'll be alright while we head out of the town?" Geralt checked, not wanting to assume.

"Yeah," Jaskier nodded, yet took half a step closer to him. "Shall we?"

They walked in silence, Jaskier appearing too nervous to make conversation while Geralt simply didn't see a need to do the talking. He was even getting used to the lack of chatter, the silence not ringing with unsaid words and songs anymore. This really was starting to feel like the new normal.

Geralt wasn't exactly sure what to think of it.

He knew it was good, healthy, for him to accept the changes but at the same time it felt like admitting defeat. Admitting that things truly wouldn't be the same going forward even with Jaskier continuing to get better. He had known it for a long time. Had thought he had come to accept it. Apparently he hadn't, not really.

He had never been good at accepting defeat.

Even though this wasn't one.

"Let's take a break," Geralt decided, noticing Jaskier was starting to slow down. Pushing the bard definitely wouldn't help with trying to make Jaskier feel better. Besides, they'd be able to take a longer walk if they stopped once in a while.

"Mmhmm," Jaskier hummed and lowered himself on the ground to lean against a tree, not even checking whether or not the spot would dirty his clothes.

Well, fuck. Maybe he should have tried to make conversation after all.

"Can I see your nails?" Geralt asked after sitting down next to the bard. He hadn't noticed Jaskier biting them lately but right now he couldn't find it in himself to trust not having simply missed it.

Jaskier studied him for a little while before offering him both of his hands. "Go ahead."

"Right first," Geralt told him before taking the mentioned hand into his, pleased with the verbal response.

It did look like the bard hadn't been gnawing at them in the past few days. No new damage to the cuticles or any signs of infection due to the past actions. Nor did nail beds look red and painful either or nails themselves shorter. Everything healing perfectly well. The left hand revealed just as good news. Jaskier really had been able to abstain from biting, having succeeded in redirecting the anxious tick to fidgeting with his beads.

"Do they hurt anymore? Have you had trouble keeping yourself from biting?" Geralt wanted to hear Jaskier tell him whether or not he should start being vigilant again.

"Not really. My fingertips have had time to get used to not having the usual protection. I think I can play for a short duration tomorrow," Jaskier shrugged, pressing fingers together. "And I haven't had to consciously keep myself from biting them. Guess it really was just the stress of the situation."

One less thing to worry about then.

And Jaskier was speaking normally too if little flatly.

"Tell me if it changes," Geralt commanded.

"I will," Jaskier agreed sincerely. "I hate doing it."

"Hmmm," that had been clear since the beginning. After a while Geralt added. "Ready to continue?"

"Sure," Jaskier said, rising up and dusting off his trousers.

If the bard had been in a better mood Geralt would have called their walk peaceful with the way they were only people on the forest trail, only the sounds of nature and his own awkward attempts at small talk around them. Fuck but he sucked at it. Jaskier's taciturn answers didn't help either. He had absolutely no idea how the bard had been able to go on and on for hours back when their roles were reversed, as it should be. It took less time for Jaskier to start lagging again than Geralt would have liked. Time to turn back after taking another break then.

"Do you have a headache?" Geralt asked, eyes narrowing as Jaskier massaged his temples.

"Getting one," Jaskier muttered, eyes closed. "Not fully formed yet."

Shit. They didn't even have water with them, nothing to help the bard. If Jaskier was already exhibiting symptoms it had to be a bad one. The stubborn idiot was far too good at concealing them.

Definitely time to return to the inn.

"Can you get back on your own?" Geralt frowned as Jaskier's steps turned shakier and face more drawn and pale the longer they walked.

"I'm fine," Jaskier said, voice thick.

It didn't take much more than a minute before the bard stopped and rubbed his temples again. "I'm not fine. My head is killing me."

"Migraine?" Geralt asked, getting more worried.

"Maybe. Everything is too bright," Jaskier agreed quietly, voice pained. "Could you lead me? It's hard to keep my eyes open."

"Want me to carry you?" Geralt countered, ready to crouch in front of the bard and let him climb on his back.

"No. You're not exerting yourself," Jaskier muttered, reaching out.

Fuck his wound. It was healing well and he'd be happy to carry Jaskier regardless. But since the bard wasn't on board with the idea, Geralt simply took the offered hand and started to lead them towards the inn. It was hard not to keep repeating the question as small pained gasps bordering on sobs joined Jaskier's breathing and his grip continued to tighten.

The walk definitely had done absolutely fuck all to improve Jaskier's day.

It was a relief for both of them when Geralt closed the door to their room. As Jaskier stumbled to the bed Geralt went to draw the curtains shut, making it as dark as possible.

"Jaskier, change into something more comfortable. You can rest afterwards for as long as you need to," he suggested, fishing one of the last painkillers out. He'd have to make more today. They had been using those far more often than normally.

"Mmmm," came the indistinct but vaguely agreeing reply after Jaskier had downed the potion so Geralt headed out to the hallway to give him the needed privacy.

After what felt like an appropriate time Geralt asked for permission to enter again. Not getting any objections, he stepped in to find Jaskier predictably curled under the covers and hiding his face into a pillow in hopes of blocking the light.

"Want the weighted blanket?" Geralt asked, keeping his voice as quiet as he could.

"Mmm."

Whether or not that was supposed to be an agreement or not, Geralt had no idea. But since it also wasn't a clear refusal he went to fetch the blanket. At least it made him feel slightly more useful.

"I'll switch the current one for it, okay?" he continued, taking a hold of the blanket covering Jaskier and peeling it away after a pause when the bard stayed silent. As the covers came off Geralt froze in surprise. "Is that my shirt?"

"Comfy," Jaskier mumbled into the pillow as an explanation.

"Right," Geralt said, feeling suddenly flustered as if Jaskier had used an endearment. Shaking himself mentally he gently placed the weighted blanket over Jaskier.

It was a shame it hid the bard.

And this was not the time to think that.

"Did you drink water yet?" Geralt asked, realizing the pitcher and mugs were in the exact same place they had been when they left for breakfast.

"Mm."

That was a negative.

Jaskier should at least try to take care of himself.

"Drink and I'll let you be," Geralt stated, already pouring some. Getting dehydrated would only make things worse.

Jaskier just sighed. But he did lift himself up just enough to be able to drink the offered water before pressing his face against the pillow again, giving a pained exhale.

"I'll stay with you for a while but I need to make more painkillers today. Sleeping potions too. Sound of the mortar would probably hurt you so I'll ask Brajan if I can use their kitchen," Geralt whispered. "Wanted to let you know now in case you fall asleep."

Jaskier most likely wouldn't due to the pain but he could hope.

"...Thanks…" Jaskier mumbled barely audibly.

"Rest," Geralt said, wishing he could soothe the migraine away.

Jaskier wished he could sleep the headache away.

But the splitting, pulsing, pain kept him awake while making the hours foggy, never-ending, and slippery. He was vaguely aware of Geralt eventually leaving the room with soft words and promises to return as soon as possible. Jaskier didn't know how long that was but Geralt did return at some point smelling strongly of herbs, making him almost gag. The Witcher left immediately, coming back smelling only faintly of soap and bringing a cool towel for his forehead with him. At one point Geralt offered him water again but he was too nauseated to even contemplate having anything in his stomach.

And moving hurt anyway.

After a lifetime or two the all encompassing headache started to slowly dull, turning from a dagger being twisted in his brain to stabbing to being hit with the hilt. It would have been a bigger relief if Marden hadn't started to massage his scalp as the pain slowly ebbed away.

He hadn't missed the disgusting echoes at all.

" _Axii_ me," Jaskier muttered, knowing Geralt could hear him perfectly well despite his faint voice and the pillow muffling it even more.

"The fuck?" came the incredulous reply.

"You can make me forget all this temporarily, can't you?" Jaskier stated, getting up slowly. "Witcher me, Witcher."

"Hell no. I won't do it," Geralt hissed, still mindful of his volume.

"I don't want to remember. I don't want to feel the hands on me. I don't want to be aware of this shit," Jaskier continued, walking gingerly to stand in front of Geralt. "You can make it all go away for a while."

"No. I won't use magic to manipulate you. What the fuck are you thinking, Jaskier?" Geralt asked, fists clenching.

"You've said you'd make all this disappear if you could. So do it. Make this go away," Jaskier demanded, vaguely aware his voice was gaining a desperate edge. "Make my mind quiet."

"I will not."

"Geralt-"

"You're being self-destructive. I won't help you with it," Geralt ground out.

"How the fuck would finally getting some peace be destructive?" Jaskier snapped and promptly winced from a twinge of pain the action caused.

"Jaskier, I'm not going to take your control away," Geralt said, words clipped and carefully bland.

"Bloody hell. Fine," Jaskier spat and headed towards the door.

"Where are you going?" Geralt grumbled behind him. Jaskier could almost hear the scowl that had to be adorning his brow.

"To get so drunk I won't remember my name let alone anything else."

He was done with this. Done. If Geralt wouldn't grant him the blissful ignorance then he'd drink until he found it on the bottom of a bottle.

"No."

"No? And what are you going to do to stop me? Imprison me into this room? Grab me? Restrain me again in an unwanted embrace no matter how I _beg_ to be let go?" Jaskier snarled, taking twisted pleasure knowing each word sank deep.

It was fucked up.

He didn't find it in himself to care currently.

All he wanted was the hands to _stop touching him_.

Jaskier could hear Geralt take a sharp inhale as the venomous words drew blood. Forcing himself not to halt at the door Jaskier made his unsteady way to the tavern, trying to ignore the fact that Geralt didn't follow after him. The noise of the customers made the throbbing of his head worse and the anxiety spike dangerously but those too might go away with enough alcohol. Everything might go away if he got roaring drunk.

"Jaskier? Are you feeling better?" Brajan asked surprised when he took a seat at the bar.

"I need whiskey. Or whatever is the strongest spirit you have," Jaskier said as levelly as he could.

Brajan's lips thinned immediately in clear displeasure at the order. "No. I'm not going to serve you alcohol when you're in that kind of state."

"I'm still a paying customer," Jaskier reminded him frustrated with everything.

"You're more than that. Where's Geralt?" the innkeeper countered, eyes searching for the Witcher.

"Our room probably," Jaskier huffed. "Whiskey, Brajan. I need it."

"No."

"If you don't want to serve me, just give the whole bottle."

"No, Jaskier. I won't enable you," Brajan said and crossed his arms, stubborn look on his face. "Alcohol won't mix well with your headache and definitely not with your emotional state."

"Oh, fuck you too," Jaskier spat, lowering his hurting head onto his hands. The noises of the tavern seemed to be getting louder and louder. The hitting hilt was again turning into a blade stabbing him.

"Excuse me?" Brajan exclaimed affronted.

Finding some self-control Jaskier managed to keep himself from repeating the insult. But fuck if he didn't want to do so while vaulting over the bar to grab a bottle. Why did everyone have to think they knew better than him? What he craved, needed, was the sweet oblivion, to be too numb to feel any kind of pain or retain his memories.

"Jaskier, go rest. I won't serve you and neither will anyone else," Brajan informed him with finality.

Knowing he'd only curse the innkeeper if he opened his mouth, Jaskier rose up and stumbled back to their room. Despite everything it was a huge relief to get away from people, from strangers and their wandering eyes and hands.

"What are you doing?" Geralt asked coldly as Jaskier started rummaging through a saddlebag.

"Sleeping potions," Jaskier ground out. Should be the third best option.

Geralt got swiftly up from the chair he had been sitting in and snatched the vial out of Jaskier's hands. "No."

"Give it back."

"No," Geralt snapped and yanked the whole bag away. "You're not going to start fucking substance abuse."

"I'm not-" Jaskier's hiss was cut short as his head gave an especially vicious throb, forcing out a pained gasp.

"Go to bed and stop being a _fucking bastard_ ," Geralt growled, anger coloring his voice.

"And you can fuck off, you _prick_ ," Jaskier hurled back even as he burrowed under his blanket again. He just wanted everything to go away.

Without a word Geralt marched out of the room, taking the potion bag with him and slamming the door shut with enough force to make Jaskier's ears ring painfully.

"Jaskier is being a fucking nightmare. A total bastard," Geralt snarled, picking up a brush to start tending to Roach. "First he wanted me to _Axii_ him and when I refused he tried to go get drunk. When that didn't work out either he decided sleeping potions would be a good alternative. All that while coming down from a migraine."

"Bet the bastard managed to trigger it again," he grumbled.

In answer Roach stepped forcefully sideways, making Geralt take few stumbling steps.

"Calm down. I'm going to check on him after we take a short ride, Roach. When I won't start shouting at him the moment I open my mouth. You should have heard the shit he said."

Lifting the saddle onto the mare's back did cause discomfort with the way it made his muscles move, stretching the bite but by now it was healed enough not to be in any danger of reopening. After leading Roach outside, Geralt mounted her and headed towards the town border.

"Jaskier really has a way with words. Definitely knows where to strike, how to go for the kill," he continued once they were alone in the forest. "Brought up the river incident. You saw what a clusterfuck it was. Saw what I did. Used that as the finishing blow. Fucking effective one too."

"What am I supposed to do with him when he's acting like this? All spiteful and trying his hardest to fulfill fucking bad ideas. Jaskier has shit ton of reasons to be angry but clearly doesn't know what to do with it so it just comes out in sudden bursts. Not even sure if he's in control of them with the way his already nonexistent impulse control is shot. Should I just lend him one of my swords so he could hack something apart? Do you think that would help, Roach?"

That earned him a snort.

"You're right. A sword would currently be too heavy for him. One of my longer daggers would be better," Geralt nodded. "Should I try to get him involved in sword practice? Might help him let out some of the anger. He has formal training too even if he hasn't used it in years. Not counting those fucking nekkers earlier this year. Then again, he can't get through even the stretching yet."

"It's just so fucking hard not to attack back when he starts acting like this," Geralt huffed irked. "Guess it's better to keep leaving for a little while instead of starting a shouting match. I won't be able to just stand there and take it calmly."

"Jaskier can be such an utter fucking feral bastard. And not in an endearing fashion."

It hadn't been long at all before Geralt turned them around, his simmering anger and hurt starting to calm down and concern replace them. Despite the fight he didn't want or plan to leave Jaskier alone for long. Not in general and definitely not when the bard was hurting and acting out in desperation.

If he was a better person he wouldn't have left at all.

When Geralt entered their darkened room again he found Jaskier still curled underneath the weighted blanket, face pressed against the pillow and breaths strained.

"Can I have a painkiller?" Jaskier asked faintly in greeting, not moving an inch.

Oh, fuck. He should have realized to leave one behind before storming out.

"Of course," Geralt whispered, quickly grabbing a vial from the bag and bringing it to the bard.

"Thanks,"Jaskier breathed, moving barely enough to be able to down the potion and revealed the pale and clammy skin of his face.

He really didn't look good.

"I'm sorry, Geralt," Jaskier mumbled, closing his eyes again and returned to the previous pose.

"Let's talk when you're doing better," Geralt stated. "But don't worry about it."

"Mm."

The bard wouldn't be able to stop worrying then.

"Jaskier, I forgive you," Geralt said, knowing it was what Jaskier needed to hear. It was the truth too. He might still be angry but it wasn't as if something that huge had happened. "Can I do anything to help?"

"...Not right now. But can I take a sleeping potion once it gets late?"

"Yeah, that's fine."

Not misuse.

"Thanks," Jaskier whispered before falling silent, Geralt following the example.

Geralt had been up for a few hours when Jaskier showed signs of waking up.

"Ghhh. Morning," the bard muttered, sitting up all bleary-eyed.

"Feeling better?" Geralt asked, studying Jaskier. His face did have a healthier color than yesterday.

"Yeah, doesn't hurt anymore. My brain is only full of wool, not being constantly stabbed with white-hot daggers,"Jaskier said, nodding tentatively as if expecting his head to roll off. "Great improvement."

"I'm really sorry about yesterday, Geralt. I was a massive asshole to you," Jaskier admitted.

"You were," Geralt confirmed.

"I shouldn't take it out on you just because I'm feeling terrible."

"Agreed."

"And I definitely shouldn't have dug up the river incident," Jaskier said, sounding remorseful. "I'm honestly so sorry. I know you won't do it ever again."

"I won't," Geralt confirmed.

Not giving the bard time to say anything else he continued. "I told you yesterday that I forgive you. It's still true. You were being a real bastard but I've always known you can be one. And it's not as if I haven't… taken my anger out on you."

It wasn't something he was proud of, having acted like a complete ass to the bard far too often. It was a miracle Jaskier had stuck with him despite it.

Loved him.

"That's absolutely true," Jaskier stated. "You're doing way better than before by the way."

Nice to hear his efforts weren't going to waste.

"Thank you for not using _Axii_. I wouldn't have reacted well after the effects ended. I really wasn't thinking straight, was I?" Jaskier sighed and ran hands over his face, sounding self-deprecating.

"You definitely weren't. You need to learn to recognize those …episodes..? when you're not actually in control," Geralt said resolutely. "I'll do my best to keep you from harming yourself but I can't shoulder everything. That's why I left, needed a break before I'd do something I'd regret."

Fuck but that was hard to admit.

He hated that Brajan was right about him not being able to handle all this alone.

Not anymore.

"I'm sorry for being selfish and burdening you. Forcing you to take care of me. I know I'm making your life hard," Jaskier said quietly, hands tangling into his beaded necklace and unable to look at him.

Of fucking course the bard had to take it like that.

"Don't apologize. This isn't your fault, Jaskier. You're not making me do anything, helping you is completely my own decision," it'd be nice if Jaskier would finally accept it. "But yes, things get hard once in a while because I fucking hate seeing you hurt."

Denying the truth wouldn't help the situation, wouldn't convince Jaskier. The bard wasn't naive enough to buy it if he said that things didn't weight on him. He'd just have to suck it up and talk about not having endless strength to deal with everything without needing more time to unwind.

It was Jaskier.

It was safe to let him see weakness.

"Sor-" Jaskier caught himself in time to cut the word short. "I wish I could do something about it but I'm not able to act like nothing is wrong. Not yet. Not like I could before all this."

Did Jaskier really think that was reassuring?

"You can kiss goodbye to that habit," Geralt grumbled. "I'd hate it even more if you started pretending with me. I don't want you to hide how you're feeling and doing. I want to help. Guess I just need a little more time to myself to be able to do it."

"I'm sorry for tethering you to me. I'll try to be more independent from now on, not force you to stay with me," Jaskier said rapidly, heartbeat quickening. "I didn't mean to limit you. I'm so sorry for being so damn clingy."

Geralt had to take a slow and calming breath before speaking. He would make Jaskier understand even if it meant they'd be sitting here for hours. "No, that's not what I meant either. Jaskier, you're not doing anything wrong or hurting me. It's just this shitty situation that sometimes gets to me. It's not your fault."

"But it is my inability to act normally that's causing it," Jaskier countered, twisting his beads so forcefully Geralt expected the cord to snap. "If I just could get myself under control again this would be over."

Stubborn bard.

"Jaskier, listen. Nothing about this is your fault. Nothing. You're traumatized-" Geralt ignored Jaskier's flinch at the term. "and it's still a fresh wound. What happened at the feast was beyond fucked up. Of course it's still affecting you strongly. There's no deadline for this, no time restraint for recovery. Things have changed and it's something we both have to keep adapting to. That's why I get tired. This all is new also to me and it's going to take some more time to figure things out. Which is easier for me to do alone."

He did need breaks from taking care of Jaskier but that wasn't a necessary addition to mention. The bard was already aware of it but hopefully he'd see the whole picture now.

"Oh," there was a dawning understanding in Jaskier's eyes.

Finally.

"That's… Yeah," Jaskier nodded, fingers relaxing around the beads. "Makes sense."

"Good," Geralt replied with feeling before adding. "Ready to go get breakfast?"

"Sure. Although… One more thing," Jaskier agreed, getting up and picking up his day clothes. "Don't ask to touch me for now, not until I do it to you. I can't handle any contact, no matter how slight, at the moment. My skin has been crawling like an angry army of spiders since waking up."

That was unexpected, Jaskier being upfront about suffering from the echoes currently, making sure he wouldn't be asked to do something he didn't want.

Fuck if it didn't make him proud.

"Want to go to the lake?" that should help. And double as exercise too.

"Yes. Please," Jaskier said, eyes sparkling. It was a good look on the bard.

It was easier to exist like this, just floating in the water. Not having to feel the hands on him, to not feel filthy and tainted. It all was washing off again, leaving calm behind. The sky was vast and blue above him and all sounds muffled, his own steady heartbeat the loudest in his ears.

If only he could feel like this all the time.

Maybe one day.

Maybe.

With a mournful sigh Jaskier started to swim towards the shore, knowing Geralt would remind him of the water constantly leaching body heat any second now. It was vaguely irritating, Geralt acting like such a worrywart. Even more irritating was that the Witcher had extremely good reasons for acting that way. It really shouldn't be this hard to keep himself functional. It just got exhausting with so many needs and obstacles to navigate throughout the day.

"Better?" Geralt asked casually as Jaskier waded to the shore, wet chemise highlighting the sharp shapes of his ribcage.

"Yeah, that helped a lot. Thank you, Geralt," Jaskier said, giving a brief smile. Gathering a towel and dry clothes he continued. "No touching still. Not feeling ready for it yet."

"That's fine," Geralt nodded as if it was normal.

Perhaps it was now.

Jaskier wasn't sure if the thought was depressing or relieving.

Once clad in the dry clothes Jaskier returned, taking a seat just outside of the arm reach from Geralt. It wasn't as if he thought the Witcher would try to touch him. He just… couldn't get closer. Swallowing an apology for it Jaskier unlatched his lute case and ran fingers gently over the polished wood of the lute before taking the instrument out. Pleased to find that the strings didn't immediately hurt his fingers he started to idly pluck them, occasionally tuning the lute when something didn't sound exactly right.

"I think I'll write a song about the graveir hunt," Jaskier said after a while. "Don't worry, I'll leave out the part where Roach and I had to drag you back to the farm on your ass."

"How generous of you," Geralt deadpanned.

"That's me. Generous and benevolent," Jaskier nodded with fake seriousness. "You should feel blessed to have such a gracious lover, my dearest."

It was highly satisfying when Geralt apparently inhaled spit in his flustered state and succumbed to a coughing fit. Possibly slightly too satisfying. He'd have to come up with more inventive endearments one day after Geralt would get used to normal ones.

"Go to hell, bard."

Jaskier didn't even try to stifle the delighted chuckle at Geralt's reply. It was amazing, knowing how much his words affected the Witcher.

"Now, now, that's not a nice thing to say to your boyfriend."

Geralt gave an incomprehensible grumble and got up to stomp off to pet Roach, almost radiating embarrassment.

"Heyyyyy, lover boy! Bring me water, will you?" Jaskier called out, bright smile still on his face.

"Get it yourself," Geralt grunted, not turning around.

"But I'm holding a lute and you're already there," Jaskier countered, far too happy about Geralt not automatically fulfilling the request.

"Hmph," Geralt huffed but did fish out the waterskin and come back, tossing it to Jaskier.

"Thanks," Jaskier said after taking a long drink. He was not going to get dehydrated and summon another headache. Yesterday had been more than enough.

"So… How are we going to make sure you'll have more time for yourself?" Jaskier asked actually seriously.

He utterly despised that being alone was still such a huge trigger. But it kept reminding him how everything had gone to hell the moment he had walked away from Geralt. Made him afraid something similar would happen when alone. He didn't have the physical or mental strength to fight back if someone would try to take advantage of him. He was fucking vulnerable and knowing it didn't help.

"We could separate more often for short durations aside from the rides," Geralt suggested. "And I could start making them longer. We've talked about this before."

"Sounds doable," Jaskier agreed, ignoring the unease the idea brought forth as well as he could. It was just his fucked up brain protesting, not some universal truth that things would go sideways.

"Jaskier, we'll ease into it. I'm not going to suddenly disappear for hours and leave you alone," Geralt said, clearly picking up on his apprehension. "It'd only hurt you and I'd keep worrying instead of unwinding."

Jaskier could only nod, throat suddenly too tight for words.

Why did even talking about this have to be suddenly so hard?

Relearning to be independent again was essential. He wanted it. Craved it.

Feared it.

"Let's not start today," Geralt decided. "Take some time to get used to the idea. And you're still tired from yesterday, aren't you?"

Jaskier could again only nod.

"On bad days we don't have to do it at all," Geralt added.

Another nod.

Drawing his knees up to lean his forehead against them, Jaskier suddenly felt like crying. Bloody hell, his emotions were again going haywire, swinging rapidly. Having some stability would be nice.

"We'll take it really slow, okay. Like we've been doing. And start again when you're ready," Geralt said in the same soft voice he used for soothing Roach.

"Mmhmm," Jaskier hummed, first tears managing to escape.

"Can I come to you?" Geralt asked gently.

"Mm," shaking his head and the small mumble was all Jaskier managed. This felt like a step backwards, not being able to handle even proximity. He wanted to be comforted, no matter how pathetic needing it was. But he couldn't allow anyone to get close, not even Geralt. Not right now.

"I won't," Geralt promised, sounding patient. Like he would stay put and not move the whole day if needed.

Jaskier truly didn't know what he had done to deserve Geralt.

The thought made him only cry harder.

Why that was his first response to almost everything Jaskier didn't understand. It was as if his body was trying to relieve the emotional pain by making him bawl his eyes out at the first little nudge. It was frustrating, making him feel so weak, not being able to even control his behavior.

"Jaskier, everything is alright. I'm not leaving you. That's not what's happening," Geralt assured him, sounding a bit lost.

Understandable. Jaskier himself felt lost too.

"...Know…" he managed to force out.

"Good."

With that they lapsed into silence, only Jaskier's sobs disturbing it. It took a few minutes more before he managed to rein in the tears, quieting down but not moving from his curled up pose yet.

"...I know you're not abandoning me," Jaskier mumbled into his knees, wanting to repeat the sentiment properly. "I don't know why I reacted like that."

"If you need to cry then just cry," Geralt said simply and without judgment.

"I'm tired," Jaskier sighed, lifting his face and rubbed at the tear tracks streaking his cheeks again. "Can we go back?"

"Of course. Want to ride?"

"...Yeah…"

It'd otherwise take them ages to get to the inn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oooof. Just oof.
> 
> Also, with the length of this whole thing, you wouldn't think that like 80% of my editing consists of making things more compact. :'D


	77. Chapter 77

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING : The italicized nightmare right at the beginning includes an unwanted kiss.

_There were hands running up his torso until they reached shoulders and gently eased his doublet off._

_"Make the sweetest of sounds for me, Songbird," Marden ordered, lips so close to Jaskier's that their breaths were mingling._

_It was the only warning before the king grabbed his hair to keep him in place and forced a deep possessive kiss on him._

Jaskier woke up with a panicked gasp and scrambled up and off the bed to be able to press his back against a wall, placing a palm over his lips.

"Jaskier, you're safe. It was a nightmare. Not real," Geralt's voice filtered in. "You're safe. Everything is fine. Jaskier, you're safe."

Letting himself slide down the wall until he was sitting Jaskier gave a small nod, unable to stop protecting his mouth with his hand.

"You know where you are?" Geralt asked, concern coloring his tone.

A nod.

The inn. Their room. Far away from the castle. Far away from Marden.

There was a relieved exhale. "Can I come closer?"

No.

No. No. No.

No.

"I won't. I'll stay right here unless you ask me to move, okay?" Geralt informed him seriously from next to the table where he was standing.

"His breath smelled like oranges," Jaskier mumbled, cupping his palm just enough to be able to speak. "He had some during breakfast. I don't think I can eat them anymore."

Not waiting for a reply he continued. "Marden grabbed my lapels, yanked me close enough for our breaths to mingle. Hair's breadth from kissing. I could smell the oranges. He was furious at me for having messed up a song. I was frightened, almost convinced, that he'd kiss me right there and then, heedless of us being in front of Elaine."

"Jaskier…"

"I was so afraid, Geralt. So afraid," Jaskier whispered brokenly. "I tried to block those thoughts away when it was over, didn't want to face what had been going on. Some parts even did get foggy. You saw how well that went."

"Hmmm."

"I still want to forget. But I can't. My mind won't let me. Now it just repeats everything in a never-ending loop. I just want this to end," Jaskier finished, staring blankly at the floor.

"No," Geralt said heatedly, making Jaskier look at him. "You're not going to end anything."

"Still not talking about suicide, Geralt. If anything, I want my life back," Jaskier sighed. "I'm just really exhausted all the time. I know things are getting better but it's a really slow and tiring process. Feels like I'm constantly fighting myself. Some days there's nothing I want more than just lie down and do nothing, when just getting through the hours is hard. Not like I always manage to keep myself from giving in."

"Good. You're at least seeing the progress you're making, then," Geralt remarked.

"Don't get your hopes up about it being a constant state of mind," Jaskier shook his head. "I'm sure I'll keep feeling like everything is just crumbling around me far too often."

"I like it when you're this honest," Geralt commented, looking sincere. "Makes things easier when you're not hiding or brushing everything off."

"Oh."

That did make sense. He too hated it when Geralt kept insisting being fine when he clearly wasn't.

"I… I'll try my best," Jaskier promised hesitantly, finally lowering his hand away from his lips and instead directed it to join his other one in fidgeting with the beads. He didn't want to burden Geralt even more but talking had started to really help. Maybe he should seek Brajan out so Geralt could get a break from hearing all sorts of fucked up things and thoughts.

If the innkeeper would still talk to him.

He'd have to go find Brajan if the man still wasn't at the counter when they'd venture downstairs. There was an apology waiting to be given.

"Thank you for listening. Again," Jaskier said gratefully.

"Always. I'm here for you, Jaskier," Geralt assured. "No matter what."

The proclamation made Jaskier's lips twitch with an almost there smile that faded as quickly as it had appeared.

"Could we go downstairs? I need to talk to Brajan. Apologize for yesterday," Jaskier asked, standing up. "You weren't the only one I was rude to."

Geralt had promised they wouldn't continue the …separation exercises, for a lack of a better term… today, that he could decide the timing. It should be alright to ask the Witcher to help, to make sure no strangers would come close. He didn't want anyone close to him, not even Geralt. But he'd just have to suck it up and endure it while downstairs.

He'd be okay. He would.

He was okay.

As long as Jaskier didn't count the cold shivers running down his spine and the rising anxiety as he walked a step behind Geralt.

It was too close.

Leaving more space between them would be worse.

So Jaskier just gripped the beads around his neck tightly and focused on keeping his breathing steady. He'd have to learn how to keep functioning even when doing something anxiety inducing. That would definitely take up a big part of his life from now on for who-knows-how-long considering almost everything gave him anxiety. Not an ideal way to live but there wasn't much else to do than just bear it and hope things would eventually get easier.

Jaskier was slightly less okay when it was Hanna behind the counter instead of the innkeeper.

"Hi, Hanna. Do you know where Brajan is?" Jaskier asked, disappointed that he couldn't make his voice carry normally.

"Dad is in the storage room. He's been doing inventory," Hanna said. "You haven't been there yet, have you?"

"No," there was something amusing about having spent so much time in the back rooms that she had to check if they even needed directions.

"Okay. It's the opposite door of that one," Hanna gestured to the door behind her. "There's another one in the kitchen that leads to it too. Oh, and once you see dad could you remind him that it's about time he takes a break? He's been at it for hours."

"Sure. Thanks, Hanna," Jaskier agreed and let Geralt once again lead the way.

The storage room was bigger than he had expected. Shelves, barrels, and crates neatly organized and stone stairs leading down to what Jaskier guessed to be a cellar. Also where the innkeeper probably was considering they couldn't see him.

"Brajan?" Jaskier tried calling out, only to find out that he still wasn't able to speak any louder than with Hanna.

Geralt glanced at him, waiting for a nod before raising his own voice. "Brajan?"

"Down here," came the expected reply.

The stone steps led to a dim underground cellar that continued into shadows, only light being what streamed from upstairs and a small lantern by Brajan's feet.

"Hello, Geralt, Jaskier. Can I do something for you?" the innkeeper greeted, sounding just as pleasant as usual.

At least he hadn't become hostile after being cursed at then.

"I'm sorry about yesterday," Jaskier apologized, not exactly sure where to go stand. He didn't want to get closer to Brajan but staying outside of the brightest area didn't feel right. He was glad Geralt had moved farther away without saying anything, giving him more space.

"I don't appreciate being cursed at but it's all fine," Brajan said, sounding sincere.

"I wasn't really thinking straight but that's not an excuse to act like I did. I really am so sorry," Jaskier shook his head, feeling his anxiety worsen the longer he stood close enough for the innkeeper to see his expressions clearly. He wasn't going to act rude while trying to apologize. "Is… is it still alright for us to stay?"

"Of course it is," Brajan promptly assured him. "You didn't do anything even remotely close to unforgivable, Jaskier. I'm not angry at you if you're worried about it."

He had been.

"Thank you," Jaskier whispered, feeling like his heart had taken residence in his throat.

"Is something wrong?" the innkeeper asked with a deepening frown.

"No. Yes. Sorry," Jaskier mumbled, backing away. Everyone was too close. The cellar was either disgustingly dusty or his breathing was starting to hitch due to anxiety.

"Jaskier, go upstairs," Geralt said, pointing at the stairs.

Good idea.

He'd have more personal space there.

It did get easier to breathe once he got away and was able to sit down on a crate, simply keeping his lungs working as they should. This was better, not being within touching distance from anyone. Made him feel safer. The knowledge that neither Geralt or Brajan would even brush against him without permission wasn't helping currently. He needed the threat completely eliminated.

"Jaskier?" It had been maybe a few minutes before Geralt's voice made him focus outwards again.

"Yeah. Hi. Better," Jaskier answered, voice still fainter than supposed to. "Sorry."

"If you need to leave a situation then you can just do so," Geralt stated, standing on top of the stairs arms crossed disapprovingly but not coming closer. "Don't wait for it to get too much."

"It would have been impolite. I was trying to apologize," Jaskier disagreed. Running away mid-sentence wouldn't have worked.

"Apologizing isn't worth compromising your well-being, Jaskier," Brajan chided. In another situation it would have been funny how only his head and shoulders were visible as the innkeeper stood on the stairs leading down. "Something like that can wait. Or you can simply say that you need a moment."

That was… true.

"Uhhh… I'll have to remember that."

His Oxenfurt colleagues would have a field day if they knew he needed reminders to use his words. But it was beyond disturbing how those kept slipping away and leaving him unable to tell others what was happening. Unable to ask for help.

And what good was a bard who couldn't even speak normally anyway?

"Stop," Geralt suddenly commanded.

"What?"

"Stop thinking," Geralt repeated. "You're contemplating something stupid."

"And how would you know?" Jaskier huffed.

"Because I can see your face."

"Oh, sod off, Geralt," Jaskier said reflexively without any heat or intent.

A snort from Brajan interrupted their exchange before it had time to continue further.

"Is there something else that you need? If not, I'll get back to work," the innkeeper asked, amusement dancing in his eyes.

"Actually, Hanna wants you to take a break," Jaskier told him. Swallowing nervously he added. "And, uh, could I talk to you later? At some point. You don't have to. Really."

"I'd like that, Jaskier. Nothing has changed," Brajan assured him. "Just, don't push yourself to do it, alright? I'm not trying to tell you what to do but to me it looks like you need some time to yourself away from people."

"I- Yeah," Jaskier sighed, cutting a protest off before it had time to pass his lips. Socializing wasn't what he wanted right now. He probably should listen to that part of himself. "Maybe not today."

"I'm here for you, Jaskier. Whenever you want," Brajan said with genuine warmth.

It was a sentiment Brajan had expressed before but worded like that it felt different. Like Brajan wasn't talking to just another customer, to just a fucked up stranger the innkeeper was too kind to ignore.

It sounded as if he mattered.

As a person.

"Thank you. So much," Jaskier murmured, closing his eyes to force threatening tears away. He wasn't going to cry just because Brajan had given him a verbal equivalent of a hug.

A few more measured breaths before he looked up at Geralt. "Could we eat in our room? I think I can't do it surrounded by people."

The words tasted bitter on his tongue.

"Of course. Let's grab something before heading back," at least Geralt didn't point out how that hadn't been necessary for some time now.

Control.

That was it. That was the difference.

Jaskier felt like he had cracked a code as he lowered his empty plate to the floor where he was sitting on. Lifting a teamug to cradle it and let the warmth seep into his fingers, he stayed silent and simply stared at the liquid inside of it, ruminating.

This was the first time Geralt had properly brought up the dependency issue with the goal of addressing it. The Witcher had been glad to discuss and take steps to correct it but it had always been him, not Geralt, who had been the driving force. Unlike today. That had to be why he was suddenly having such trouble with the idea of not being constantly accompanied by Geralt. Nothing else had changed after all. Not the intent, not the methods. Nothing except that it hadn't been him voicing the need for it. And wasn't that a fucked up recipe for a relationship to end horribly? He couldn't keep falling to pieces just because Geralt mentioned wanting something that mildly inconvenienced him. Or in this case didn't actually even change anything. At all. Geralt was trying so hard to make sure he didn't feel pressured that the Witcher was, probably unconsciously, giving up far too much of his own independence and autonomy as it was. He wouldn't, couldn't, allow Geralt to try accommodating him even more.

Absolutely not.

"You need to go."

"What the hell?" came Geralt's blank reply, making Jaskier realize he had said only a part of the conclusion to his thoughts.

"For a ride, have a drink. Go smell the roses or something. Anything that doesn't involve me," Jaskier clarified. "I'm done with my mini separation anxiety breakdown. So, shoo."

He only got an unimpressed and slightly suspicious look.

"I'm serious, Geralt. You can go. I had to realign a couple of cords in my head but it's okay now. I figured out what went wrong this morning. And it's nothing for you to worry about," Jaskier said evenly. He'd kick the Witcher out if needed.

"Are you going to be alright alone? Properly alone?" Geralt asked, brows furrowing in concern. "You'd have to get too close to others if you went to the kitchen, wouldn't you?"

That was a valid point. Still…

"We'll see. It's been some time, maybe it has gotten easier. And the idea isn't filling me with terror so that's good," Jaskier shrugged, not knowing the answer. "If it does turn out to be too much, I'll do my best to go down and ask Brajan to keep me company somewhere silent and secluded."

"Hmmm."

"Geralt. Go," Jaskier said gently, offering a small smile. "Don't define your life by my limitations."

He'd rather break this off and shatter his own heart than let Geralt give up on living his life.

"Fine," Geralt conceded after a short stare down. "I'll take Roach to the clearing and do my training. The bite has healed enough to start again."

"Do you mind if I don't come to the stable with you?" Jaskier asked, playing with his necklace. "I'd rather just stay here, away from everyone."

"You don't have to take care of Roach for me."

"I do deem you to be hale enough to saddle her and swing your swords around," Jaskier agreed. "That's why I'm not protesting against your plans. See you later, then?"

With a hum Geralt got up to put his gear on and grabbed their plates to take them downstairs with him. One hand on the handle the Witcher turned to look at him before stepping out. "Jaskier, don't do anything stupid. Try to rest."

"That's the plan. And Geralt, if you manage to open your wound, I'll stab you in your sleep," Jaskier smiled beatifically and blew a kiss to the Witcher.

The smile managed to stay on his face for exactly as long as it took for the door to click closed. All the pretty words and honest sentiments weren't enough to make his fear disappear. Felt like it had become a part of him. His hair was dark brown. His eyes cornflower blue. Cold fear lived in his bones.

He hadn't lied to Geralt. It wasn't terror.

Hopefully it also wouldn't be.

Thinking about it would only make spiraling more likely so Jaskier retrieved his songbook and writing tools with the firm determination to start working. With the same determination he kept staring at a blank page and clicking his ring box's lid open and closed for a long time while trying to summon the strength to write something, anything, down. With herculean effort Jaskier dipped his quill in ink and finally penned the first words down.

_Roach deserves apples._

…True. But not a start to a song and it'd take a little more time before apples would be in season again. He'd have to get her something else in the meantime.

_Gorgeous Geralt._

True again. Sounded more like a song too.

_Graveir. Sraveir. Hraveir. Rapier. Glacier. Fuck._

Why did graveirs have to be called graveir?

_Stay inside on a moonless night / Least you become a feast / For a very hungry beast_

Valdo Marx could do better and that was an extremely low standard.

_Fire and silver danced / death as their mistress / under the uncaring skies_

A tremble in Jaskier's hands made him jab his quill too hard against the page, causing the ink to start blotting, paper to rip and the nib to break. With an alarmed yelp he quickly moved the still bleeding quill away from the book only to knock the open vial of ink over.

"Fuck!"

Dropping the broken quill, Jaskier snatched his songbook up before it could get soaked and righted the vial again. With panicked breaths he pressed his forearm against the spreading pool of ink trying to keep it from spilling over the edge of the table, only to realize that he was utterly destroying his clothes again. The fabric was greedily soaking up the liquid, turning the color from blue to black. There were small ink droplets falling from his songbook down to the tabletop. His right hand was just as badly covered in ink as the dampening sleeve. He couldn't move away without spreading the mess and the table would be stained even after the ink would be wiped away.

_Oh gods, the table._

_The table._

They'd be kicked out. He knew they would be. On top of everything else he had now destroyed property. Geralt would come back only to find out that he had fucked up again. Fucked up badly enough that they'd have to leave the one place he had started to regard as safe. Fucked up badly enough to lose one of the few lifelines he had. Soon he'd fuck up badly enough to lose Geralt. He knew he would. That was the only thing he knew how to do anymore.

"Jaskier?" a knocking on the door and Lena's voice startled him. "Is something wrong?"

Yes. Yes. Yes.

"Jaskier?"

"Y-yes," maybe, maybe he had been able to say it loud enough. He couldn't breath. He couldn't move. And even if he could, he wouldn't. He didn't want to destroy the floor too. He'd spread ink everywhere.

He really was a disaster.

"Can I open the door?" Lena asked, sounding worried.

For a brief moment Jaskier wasn't sure if he had been able to answer but then Lena gave one more warning before opening the door.

"What happened?" she said, kicking the door closed behind her as her hands were occupied with carrying a big basketful of linens.

"...Ink…" which was the obvious answer. It also was the only thing Jaskier was able to say.

"I can see that," Lena nodded calmly. "Can I come closer?"

"...Please…" his skin prickled at the idea.

"You really managed to trap yourself, didn't you? Don't worry, I've seen Anja do worse. Olga too. And Hanna. Somehow Ella avoids these kinds of situations. But you really should have seen the time Olga accidentally stepped into a vat of paint. She still claims it was Anja's fault but we all know it was all her," Lena talked evenly as she took a linen sheet out of the basket and folded it to fit neatly on the ink covered area. "Lift your arm now. This will make sure the ink won't spill to the floor."

As Jaskier complied Lena quickly pressed the fabric on the still spreading stain, making black bloom on it but not a drop escaped the table.

"You can put your book on it."

Jaskier did.

"You should also take a deep breath."

Jaskier tried.

"Were you standing here for long?"

He didn't know. Probably not at all considering the ink hadn't started to dry, not even the smallest smudges. But it certainly felt like a hundred years.

"You should take your doublet off too, the sleeve is dripping."

All the air Jaskier had managed to get back into his lungs disappeared at the suggestion. He couldn't. He couldn't. He couldn't. He should. He had already destroyed the table, he didn't want to add more damage to the list.

"No. …Please, no… Please," there were suddenly small wet patches appearing on the dry parts of the stained linen on the table. "Don't make me."

"Hey, hey, hey, Jaskier. I won't. You don't have to take it off," Lena soothed him. "You can just wrap the sheet around your arm, it's done its job now. That way you won't spread ink everywhere."

"...So sorry…"

"It's only a wooden table, Jaskier. Little work and it's good as new. Nothing nearly as drastic happened as what you're telling yourself," Lena continued, tone still calm and pleasant. "I guess it feels like the end of the world right now but I promise it's not. Things are fine."

"...Sorry…."

"Where's Geralt? And don't stop breathing."

"...Roach."

"He's… fishing? Want to come downstairs since you're alone?" Lena asked Jaskier after he had wrapped the sheet around his sleeve and hand.

He didn't. He didn't want to go anywhere, didn't want to be among people. "...Okay…"

"That's great. I'll draw you a bath too. You look like you fought against that ink and lost," Lena talked as she led them downstairs. "Don't forget to breath, okay. It was just an accident. No one is angry about the table."

…Oh…

...She wanted…

…

Geralt knew something was wrong the second he saw Anja leaning against the stable door, looking and smelling agitated.

"Geralt! You're ba-!" Anja started to exclaim, sprinting towards him.

"What happened?" he cut her off, dismounting and briskly leading Roach to her stall. She'd be alright standing around with her tack on for a while if needed.

"So, Jaskier accidentally marred the table in your room and got really panicky about it but Lena was doing chores and heard him. She went to see what's going on and got Jaskier out of acting like a human dam for ink and they headed downstairs together. She thought he was okay, well, as okay as someone having some variation of a panic attack can be, but turned out he was completely out of it. As in, really hard to coax any reaction out of it. Dad's with him in the family kitchen. It's been maybe half an hour?" Anja explained rapidly, keeping pace with Geralt until reaching the kitchen door where she left him.

Fuck.

Geralt had just enough self-control to not barrel into the room and managed to slow down before entering, not wanting to startle Jaskier and possibly make things worse. The bard was sitting silently in a chair at the table and staring vacantly at what seemed like an untouched mug of tea, his blue weighted blanket wrapped around him.

"Geralt, you're back," Brajan greeted, sounding relieved and not moving from where he was sitting with Jaskier.

"How is he?" Geralt asked, walking carefully to Jaskier's other side.

"Unresponsive. Mostly," Brajan sighed. "Hopefully he'll react to you better."

Geralt gave a curt nod before focusing on Jaskier. "Jaskier, can you look at me?"

Nothing. Ah, shit. He really hadn't missed this. It had been disturbing in the early days and it frankly hadn't gotten any easier to witness with time. Only rarer. It had worked before so maybe… Geralt clapped his hands loudly next to Jaskier's ear, making the bard jolt and slowly turn his head to look at him.

"Jaskier? You with me?" Geralt asked, trying to lock eyes. Jaskier did open his mouth briefly as if to answer but in the end stayed silent and started to turn away again. Not having it, Geralt snapped his fingers and managed to catch Jaskier's eye. "Words, Jaskier. Talk to me."

"Mm?"

Not a word but at least a reply. He could work with that.

"I said words, not sounds."

"Mhmmm."

"I thought you were a bard?" that was finally able to elicit a visible reaction when a frown briefly twisted Jaskier's face.

"...Am…"

Finally. "Fucking prove it. Tell me again about the chenterelle."

"... _Chanterelle_."

Good to know mispronouncing terminology irked Jaskier enough to try drag himself back into awareness.

"Yeah, the chintarelle," Geralt challenged, snapping his fingers again when Jaskier closed his eyes for too long.

"... _The chanterelle._ It's the… single string that creates the highest-pitched course of the lute," Jaskier said slowly as if words were something sticky and hard to form. "Geralt?"

"Yes. Do you know where you are?"

Instead of answering immediately Jaskier looked around, stopping to stare at Brajan for what felt like an eerily long time. "The… inn?"

"Correct. What happened?" Anja might have given him a rundown but he needed to hear Jaskier's version.

Another pause.

"You left. Tried to work. Decided to use a quill. Shouldn't have. My hands shook. Shake. Ended up breaking the nib and knocked the ink over. I'm so sorry. So sorry. I ruined the table, it's stained," Jaskier said, focusing on Brajan. His agitated shifting made the blanket move enough for Geralt to glimpse cloth wrapped around his right hand and forearm.

"Jaskier, are you hurt?" if he was and no one had told him…

"What? No. I'm not," Jaskier shook his head, distracted from the apologies.

"Your arm."

"Oh," Jaskier brought his arms out from under the blanket and unwrapped the bundle that was his right one, revealing fabric and skin stained black. "That was just so I wouldn't dirty everything since I couldn't- since I can't-"

"Easy, Jaskier," Brajan cautioned before continuing ruefully. "I feel like I should have been slightly more specific with my family about your situation. But it didn't cross my mind that I'd have to warn them not to ask you to undress or state that they'll draw you a bath."

Well, fuck. That explained all this.

"I haven't told them what you went through Jaskier, it's not mine to share. I've only briefly gone over what sort of symptoms might show up and stressed the fact that you're not to be touched even by accident but nothing about the reasons or outside of practicalities," Brajan explained. "Although, I must admit I have alluded to things when talking alone with Zofia."

"...It's fine. You can talk with her openly," Jaskier sighed, shoulders sagging.

Geralt wasn't sure if he was surprised or not by the permission.

"Thank you. Now, before you start worrying again, I don't care about the table. No, let me finish," Brajan said with practiced ease and a lifted finger. "But since it does matter to you, how about you help us restore it tomorrow and we'll call it even. It just needs sanding down and a new coat of varnish. Or paint more likely."

Geralt could appreciate the brisk way the innkeeper handled the issue, making it clear there was nothing wrong but also acknowledging that to Jaskier there truly _was_. A distinction Geralt himself still had trouble with.

"I'd like that," Jaskier said quietly, looking more relaxed now that he knew what the consequences would be.

"Want to go to the lake?" Geralt asked. It might be the easiest way to get the ink off.

"Don't have the strength," Jaskier murmured, radiating shame. It made Geralt suddenly want to hit the table. He didn't.

"It's fine. Can you use a wash basin?" hopefully that'd work. Jaskier's problems with washing were fucking difficult to navigate. Not the bard's fault but…

"...I think so."

Thank the gods.

It was difficult to unbutton his doublet, both mentally and physically. Jaskier's hands were still shaking, making the task far harder than it had any right to be. He was being ridiculous once again. And this time he was inconveniencing Geralt too, keeping the Witcher standing in front of their door out in the hallway. Making sure absolutely no one could get in while he was partly undressed.

It'd be nice to be able to allow Geralt to stay in the room.

It'd also be nice to stop ruining his clothes. He was honestly starting to run out of them. There was no way it'd be possible to get all of the ink out of his doublet and chemise. The water was turning pitch black as Jaskier washed his hands. This was absolutely mortifying, having needed help because he spilled ink. He just… hadn't been able to think straight from the moment he realized having caused property damage. And then Lena had accidentally made everything worse.

After changing the water, Jaskier dipped a washcloth in it and proceeded to scrub his face where he had been informed to have few smudges from his fingers. Like a child. He felt horrible. Embarrassed. Ashamed.

Pathetic.

Wanting to feel at least a little better he went to retrieve one of Geralt's shirts, letting it warm him up. Inside out. The sleeves were too long despite the fact that he wasn't much shorter than the Witcher with the way it hung loosely on his frame, far too large for his shoulders. It was strangely comforting how he could pull them over his fingers.

"You can come in now," Jaskier called out quietly, knowing Geralt could hear him perfectly well through the door.

"Feeling better?" Geralt asked as he stepped in, blinking in surprise at his attire.

"Mmhmm," Jaskier shrugged, not particularly sure of the answer. He wanted to go back to the few good days he had had. "Could you sit with me? Still out of the arm reach, please."

He really didn't know why he had such trouble with proximity today. He just wanted Geralt to hold and reassure him that this was a temporary dip in mood, that things would get better again. It was a terribly needy desire. Jaskier couldn't squish it down.

"Of course. I won't do it until you say it's fine," Geralt said, moving as close as he was allowed to.

"Thank you. I don't know what's wrong. I'm not trying to push you away. I just… can't," and it gnawed at him.

"You had a terrible day yesterday. I think it's normal for today to be bad too," Geralt reassured him. "Maybe tomorrow will be better again. And if not, it'll happen eventually."

"You're incredible, Geralt. Putting up with all this, with me. I'm not sure I can ever tell you just how much I appreciate it," Jaskier confessed, looking Geralt in the eye. Hoping he'd understand. "It means so much to me. You mean so much to me."

Geralt was looking at him with a weird look on his face, like he had eaten something sour.

"Jaskier, I- …love… you. All this is worth it," Geralt managed to get out, voice strained.

For a fraction of a second Jaskier rued the fact that Geralt had managed to force the confession out for the second time when he wasn't able to even get close to the Witcher. Then it melted into elation of getting to hear the words again at all. It was such a precious gift, something to treasure.

"I love you too. More than I can ever convey," Jaskier whispered, voice cracking from pure unadulterated love and adoration.

Geralt even bestowed him a smile as he blew the Witcher a kiss to seal his words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Geralt managed to say it for the 2nd time!!!
> 
> Also, I'm permanently switching to two times a week updates. Works better for me currently.


	78. Chapter 78

The next morning felt much brighter despite the thick cloud covering making the light muted when Jaskier woke up. His skin wasn't crawling and the mere idea of being around people didn't make him want to huddle underneath a blanket and never again face the world. Definitely steadier than the past two days. It was an immense relief.

"Good morning, Geralt. Emphasis on good," Jaskier greeted as he stood up and stretched. "May I have a hug and give you a peck on the cheek?"

He could see Geralt's eyes widen in surprise before the Witcher was able to smooth his expression. "Absolutely."

It felt heavenly having Geralt's arms around him again, being able to be close. Reminding him that he was safe and loved. That he wouldn't be left to deal with everything alone. That Geralt was here for him despite everything, even when he had been such an asshole to the Witcher.

"The kiss?" Jaskier inquired with a small smile, wanting to make absolutely sure Geralt hadn't changed his mind.

"Yes," Geralt said with an answering smile. He too seemed to be in a good mood.

"Love you," Jaskier whispered in Geralt's ear before giving a light peck on his cheek and stepped away from the embrace.

He didn't want to try lingering after kissing, no matter how innocent or brief, in case it'd turn out to be a bad idea. He was in a too good mood to threaten throwing himself off-balance. No experimenting with limits, not right now at least. He just wanted to enjoy feeling almost fine for a change. It was a rare and beautiful thing.

"Let me change and we could go have breakfast?" Jaskier requested. He wasn't exactly hungry but also not nauseated. Even that seemed to be under control currently.

"Sounds good," Geralt nodded and left him alone to switch clothes in peace.

Which didn't take long, his options greatly diminished. A pity. He didn't have enough money to replenish his wardrobe. He'd just have to make due.

And keep stealing Geralt's shirts.

Seeing Lena at the counter made Jaskier falter for a second before swallowing the burst of anxiety down. She had only tried to help. It wasn't her fault that she had accidentally hit two out of his top three triggers while doing so. She hadn't known. Hadn't meant to cause a silent flashback that quickly changed into him just… leaving. He was safe with her. He was.

"Oh, Jaskier. I'm so sorry about yesterday. I didn't mean to hurt you," Lena apologized the moment they reached the counter. "Dad explained what I did wrong. I promise you not to ever do it again."

"It's okay, Lena. I know you didn't mean to. And I, uh, I probably should give all of you some sort of a rundown of my triggers to avoid repeats…" the last part was hard to say. But it'd be necessary if he was to spend more time with the family. It wasn't fair to expect them to know what to avoid without actually telling them.

Jaskier could hear Geralt shift his weight in surprise at his willingness to open up even a little.

"I can pretty confidently say on all of our behalf that it'd be really great if you could do it. Dad has told us things but it'd be far better to hear from you," Lena admitted.

"Thanks," Jaskier nodded before switching the topic, not wanting to get into it now. "Could we get breakfast?"

"Absolutely. I'll get it to you momentarily."

After taking seats at their regular table, Jaskier turned to Geralt, regarding him carefully. "How are your senses doing? Should we camp out tonight?"

"Have you looked outside? It'll be raining by nightfall," Geralt said unimpressed. "And my senses are just fine."

"Good point. I'd rather not sleep on soggy ground and soil my clothes. I'm running dreadfully low on them as is," Jaskier lamented and tugged a sleeve to cover his wrist better. "There's been the chemise destroyed by the bandits, doublet I cut into pieces and the matching trousers I left behind, that one whole outfit that got completely soaked in your blood and then yesterday. If things continue like this I'll have to start wearing your clothes all the time. And black is not my color.

"You look good in anything," Geralt stated before blanching, his brain apparently catching up with the words.

"Thank you, dear. But are you sure you just don't enjoy seeing me in your clothes?" Jaskier grinned, taking enjoyment from how flustered Geralt suddenly got.

"Shut the fuck up," Geralt tried to growl. It sounded more petulant than anything, making Jaskier chuckle.

"Don't worry, I too like sharing your shirts," Jaskier wanted to pat Geralt consolingly on the shoulder. But asking for permission to do so felt weird so he stomped down on the urge and instead leaned his cheek on a hand and let his grin turn into a small honest smile. "They're big, soft and smell faintly like you. Feels a little like I'm being hugged when I wear one."

"Hmmm," if Geralt looked any softer, the Witcher would be a melted puddle on the floor. Dear Melitele, how he loved that man.

"So, no camping. You'll probably take Roach for a ride soon to make sure you won't be rained on?" Jaskier changed the subject. There was something calming about knowing what to expect from each day. Somehow it made him feel better prepared even when there was nothing to actually prepare for, only the same few light activities most of the time. But having a loose plan, knowing what would happen, was nice. One thing less to stress about. "And I should ask if we're really going to restore the table today."

"Gods, I feel so guilty about it," he added in a mumble.

"Jaskier, you have nothing to feel guilty about. Brajan said so too. It was an accident," Geralt reminded him promptly. At his assenting nod the Witcher continued. "I'll take Roach for a run soon. Depending on your plans in the meantime I might also do my sword training while I'm out."

Geralt really shouldn't have to make his decisions revolve around him. But, well. It was rather unavoidable at the moment.

"Geralt, take as long as you need and want. I'm honestly feeling really good today so you don't have to worry about me," Jaskier still wasn't going to let it go unchallenged. "Even if the fixing of the table will be postponed, I'll still ask if I could spend some time in the kitchen instead of staying alone. I also do want to talk to Brajan. You'll have plenty of time to yourself."

So use it, he wanted to add.

"Are you sure?" Geralt questioned, eyes searching but not sounding disbelieving.

"Absolutely," Jaskier said with feeling before thanking Lena for bringing their food.

" _Oooh,_ " he was rather sure the sound he made when he bit into the warm fresh bread bordered on obscene. "It tastes like bread. I want to marry this loaf. Sorry Geralt, I'm eloping."

"Great to know I'm easily replaceable," Geralt said amused, lips twitching.

"Told you fidelity hasn't been my strongest suit in the past," Jaskier agreed, fighting not to cram the whole slice of bread into his mouth at once. It was hard to resist when he couldn't remember when the last time food had tasted this good was. He had almost forgotten that eating could be pleasurable, not something you just had to struggle through to stay alive. "And I'm not sure whether you or this bread tastes sweeter."

The way Geralt snorted water out of his nose was enough to make Jaskier laugh. Except for the fact that he had just taken another bite so he ended up breathing crumbs in. Within a second they both had devolved into coughing and wheezing messes that drew attention of the other patrons to themselves. The weight of strangers' eyes was enough to make Jaskier sober up, smile gone when he managed to stop coughing. He didn't want to be the subject of any scrutinization. Not in general and definitely not now that he was feeling truly better for once. He didn't want the feeling to disappear. So he took yet another big bite, wanting to get lost into the flavor of the fresh bread, hard cheese and soft butter.

"Jaskier, slow down. You'll make yourself sick," Geralt commanded after a while with a frown, making Jaskier stop mid-chew.

The Witcher had a point. He wasn't used to eating this fast or much. Placing his half eaten fourth slice down, Jaskier swallowed and took hold of his mug to make sure he wouldn't just grab the bread and shove it into his mouth again.

"Now that's something you haven't had to say before," Jaskier commented. "Nice change of pace with my eating problem, eh?"

"I'd rather you ate normally," Geralt said, not reacting to the teasing tone.

A shame, now he too felt like speaking seriously about it. "Me too. It just tastes so good that it's hard to stop. I haven't really tasted anything but ash and sawdust for a long time."

"Still, try to pace yourself or you'll throw up," Geralt stated. "Don't eat too much at once. Small portions but often."

"You're right," Jaskier nodded, feeling a bit embarrassed. "I'm not even doing this because I'm hungry."

"Hmmm," there was still a shadow of a frown on Geralt's face.

"I'm not going to raid the pantry, Geralt," Jaskier sighed, taking a sip of his tea.

"I know."

Good.

Brajan was rummaging through a crate when Jaskier stepped into the storage room.

"Hello, Jaskier. You're here about the table, aren't you?" the innkeeper greeted and straightened up.

"Yeah. Are we going to fix it today?" Jaskier confirmed, idly playing with his beads.

"That's the plan," Brajan nodded, expression turning serious. "Jaskier, I want you to understand that you absolutely do not have to help with it. We can either put it behind us or I can figure out something else for you to do if that's more comfortable for you."

"Okay? But I'd like to do it. It was my fault after all," Jaskier said, confused by the declaration.

"I didn't realize yesterday but… Jaskier, it has to be done outside. I fully understand if you'd rather not do it. Or we could wait for Geralt to return. He's out, isn't he?" Brajan explained, looking like he was observing his reactions closely.

"...Oh…" the tiny sound was all Jaskier could make. It hadn't crossed his mind either.

Such a frightening thought, venturing out without Geralt. He hadn't done so very often at all and the few times hadn't been because he had actually wanted to. This time he was in his right mind to make the decision.

"...I… I think I could try. Just… Can I please leave at any point, even if we're not finished?" Jaskier said hesitantly. Idly twirling his beads had turned into clutching them and his heart was beating harder.

"Of course. You can leave the second you want to. You absolutely don't have to, or should, stay in a situation that's getting too overwhelming," Brajan agreed immediately. "This isn't a punishment."

Hearing it was relieving even when he knew it wasn't like that.

"Jaskier, you're safe with me. I won't let you come to harm. I'm no Witcher but if there's anything I can do, I will," Brajan said seriously and sincerely. "Not that going out means something will happen. I simply want you to know that."

Jaskier was suddenly hit with an urge to hug the innkeeper.

He didn't do so, didn't move, didn't mention it.

But the fleeting thought had been there.

"Thank you," Jaskier breathed, voice almost breaking from the torrent of emotions the words had unleashed. "That means the world to me. And I do trust you, Brajan."

The innkeeper's face lit up with a warm smile. "I'm very happy to hear that."

Grabbing the tools he had taken out of the crate, Brajan headed out and Jaskier started following him with a mix of determination and dread. But he really did want to at least attempt this. He could back out if he wanted. At any point. It was enough to make this within the realm of possible.

"I've already taken care of getting the table outside," Brajan said when they reached the back door. "If you need a moment before stepping out, please take it. This doesn't open to a street either, the way buildings are situated has granted us a small courtyard that's mostly secluded."

Knowing that did help.

Jaskier stopped short just before stepping out after Brajan, his legs freezing up. It shouldn't be this huge of an issue. But the thought of crossing the threshold was frightening. He hadn't done something like this without Geralt since before. Leaning against the door frame he took several deep breaths simply looking around before cautiously inching his way out.

Nothing happened.

Like he had rationally known. It was the believing that was the problem.

"I've never done woodwork," Jaskier murmured, having trouble getting the words leave his constricted throat.

"Never too late to learn," Brajan declared, watching him fondly. "We're going to first sand it down with, well, sand."

It was a strange expression to have aimed at him.

"Grab a rag," the innkeeper said, pouring fine sand onto the table. "It's best to move your hand in circular motions and move methodically to make sure you don't leave any unsanded spots. Abrasion makes the paint take hold better than if we simply painted on top of the current cover of lacquer. It'd start flaking off."

Having Brajan keep up a steady stream of explanations and advice was helpful, making it easier to focus on the task in hand. Not that it stopped Jaskier from constantly looking around, needing to make sure nothing in their vicinity had changed. That no one was approaching. That there were no threats. Geralt wasn't here to warn him.

It didn't matter that his hands were shaking.

"Jaskier, let's take a break," Brajan said, placing his own coarse cloth on the table and dusted his hands off before heading back inside.

Giving a silent nod Jaskier followed the innkeeper's lead. It was a sweet relief to have walls around him again as they made their way to the family kitchen. It was safer like this.

"You did great," Brajan complimented him while brewing tea and placing a bowl of pea pods on the kitchen table. "I mean it."

"...Thanks," Jaskier said, his voice starting to return back to him. "Brajan, I… I think I can't go outside again. I'm sorry I can't help you finish."

"Don't worry about it, I'm glad you let me know. Besides, we already did the hardest part. Having another pair of hands made it much quicker," Brajan sounded sincere enough for Jaskier to be almost sure the innkeeper truly meant it.

Twirling a pea pod, Jaskier lifted his eyes to look at Brajan who had taken a seat across the table from him. "Could I talk to you for a while?"

Getting an affirmation he continued. "I realized yesterday that I have bigger problems with control than I thought. I have a rather tenuous grip on my own actions and reactions but that's nothing new. It's… apparently I also have a need to control what Geralt does. I don't want to, I really don't. I wish he could live freely without being burdened by my issues. But when he mentioned wanting to have more time to himself I fell apart. We have talked about my dependency before too. Have been slowly working on it. Nothing he said was new, he simply affirmed the need, was the one to bring it up. I couldn't handle it."

Confessing it to someone else felt shameful. How could anyone act like he had? Try to limit their loved one?

"What did you do about the request?" Brajan asked calmly.

"Told him to go do something alone and not think about me," Jaskier said, fighting against the strong urge to hide behind his hands.

There was a small if a little sad smile forming on Brajan's lips. "Jaskier, you did the right thing. It sounds like you were highly self-aware and acted accordingly, didn't let your immediate reaction rule your decisions or words."

Jaskier couldn't help but shake his head in negation. "You don't understand. I really did fall apart just because it was Geralt bringing the issue up. I can't keep doing that, can't keep reacting so strongly if he wants to talk about how things affect him. It feels manipulative and opening up is already really hard for him, I can't keep making it even harder. And I want to be able to be there for him, I honestly do."

"I don't know if there's a way to change your immediate reaction aside from letting time do its work but how you act afterwards is the most important part, Jaskier. You didn't do anything to manipulate Geralt. Like you said, you don't want to control what he does and your choices show it," Brajan assured him. "Maybe you should let Geralt know that while your first reaction might be negative it doesn't mirror your actual opinions on the matter?"

"I don't want to let him know that a part of me violently rebels against the mere notion of him not constantly being there for me to cling to. That him not being with me feels like slowly drowning," Jaskier muttered, feeling his cheeks heat up with embarrassment.

"I think he'd understand," the innkeeper said kindly.

"He would, in a way. And then he'd try not to leave me," Jaskier sighed. "I can't do that to him."

"Maybe just use a different phrasing," Brajan deadpanned.

"..." that was true.

"Also, it's perfectly natural that you can't be there for him the way you want. You can't serve from an empty vessel, Jaskier."

"What?" Jaskier asked, perplexed.

"You're currently fighting your own battles. It's normal that you don't have the strength to add his on top of everything. It's hard to help others when you're already spent from keeping yourself afloat," Brajan explained seriously. "Not to mention it'd be frankly unhealthy for you to try shouldering his worries."

"It doesn't feel fair to him, not being able to reciprocate the support he gives me," Jaskier said, embarrassment turning into guilt.

"The best thing you can do for him currently is to focus on yourself, Jaskier," Brajan advised, sounding sure of himself. "There will come a time when you'll be ready to help him with his burdens but for now all you have to do is keep recovering."

There was something strangely and wonderfully relieving being given permission to simply be, to simply try to figure out the mess he had become.

"Thank you, Brajan. Truly," Jaskier sniffled, wiping a few stray tears away. "Talking to you… It means a lot to me."

"I'm so glad I can help you. I have grown to care about you, Jaskier," Brajan said sincerely.

That was enough to make Jaskier cry hard, tears streaming down his cheeks while his heart ached from the unselfish kindness shown to him.

Geralt hadn't felt this free in a long time. For once it was almost easy to let his constant worry for Jaskier fade in the background, letting him focus on here and now. The bard had been in a better mood than he had seen in ages, talking, teasing, smiling, wanting physical contact again. Eating. Even if it had seemed to have swung from one extremity to another. Geralt was vaguely curious how much Jaskier would have eaten without being warned about making himself sick. Not that he'd let Jaskier to test it out if the next meal prompted the same reaction.

"Are you in as a good mood as Jaskier and I, Roach?" Geralt asked as they trotted along the forest path leading to the clearing.

The springy steps and ears eagerly pricked forward was a clear agreement. She didn't seem to mind too much her suddenly leisure lifestyle.

"It's great seeing Jaskier acting so normally. Hopefully that will last for a while. He deserves a break," he continued. "To be honest, I too could use one. But even if this doesn't last, it's still a step forward."

At that Roach gave a small huff.

"You too, huh? A break for all of us then."

A while later they arrived to the empty clearing. It was slightly disappointing that all the dandelions had died, their season long gone. But other wildflowers had sprung up in their stead. Maybe he should pick a bouquet again as a gift for Jaskier. The bard seemed to like them a lot.

"Enjoy yourself, Roach," Geralt patted the mare before starting on his stretches.

It was easy to get lost in the familiar movements, muscle memory taking over and letting him enter a slight meditative state as he worked through the routine. The last stretch turned smoothly into a move to unsheath his sword and continued into the sword practice without a break or falter. He had missed the simplicity of taking precise steps and executing each slash, thrust, and parry with razor-sharp focus.

This he knew.

Had worked through the same familiar routines, learned so long ago, for years until they were carved into his very bones.

Geralt made one more swing, finishing his practice and sheathed his sword. Wiping sweat off his forehead he made his way to Roach's saddle to retrieve his waterskin. The mare was happily munching on the fresh grass, wisely staying away from the places where the flowers grew. It was good that she was smart enough to avoid eating plants poisonous to her.

Done with drinking, Geralt walked over to inspect the flowers closer before starting to pick them. Soon enough he deemed having a fitting amount and untied the cord holding his hair back to secure the flowers into a bouquet. Maybe he should start carrying some thread with him so he wouldn't have to free his hair each time. It'd be more practical.

"Roach, it's time to go back to the inn. It's nearing lunchtime and Jaskier has been -will be- alone for longer than usual," Geralt informed the mare.

After mounting and nudging her to start walking he continued. "Talking about Jaskier, do you think I should start opening up to him more? It's still hard to get the words out, old habits and all. But I trust him. …Love… him. Sometimes I wonder if he truly knows how much he means to me. Words are important to him. And I'm really fucking bad at talking about feelings."

"I fucking curse at him half of the time he professes his love or uses an endearment."

Roach's snort felt very much deserved.

It was a lively scene Geralt stepped into as he arrived into the inn's kitchen. Anja appeared to be in the middle of telling a story, waving a rolling pin in emphasis while Zofia was trying to make her calm down and Hanna tried to correct her about a particular detail. Jaskier was sitting at the table, helping Hanna shell peas and looking entertained by the shenanigans happening around him. It was great to see the bard wasn't cringing away from all the hazardous movements.

"Geralt, you're back!" Jaskier exclaimed, perking up at the sight of him. His good mood clearly hadn't disappeared. "Did you have fun?"

"Hmmm. I did my practices," Geralt said, debating internally if he should present the flowers now or wait until they were alone.

"Are those for me?"

Apparently the choice got made for him.

"Yes," Geralt confirmed, walking to stand by the table and present the bouquet to the bard.

"Thank you," Jaskier said as he took the offered flowers before gasping in delight. "There's buttercups! You're far too sweet, Geralt."

"Jakub has never picked me a whole bouquet," Hanna complained in good humor and with a pout.

"And that's why you should find a better boyfriend. Apparently someone like Geralt," Anja nodded gravely.

That was a completely new sentiment to hear. And a ridiculous one.

"You're just jealous," Hanna accused with a smile.

"I might be," Anja said before taking a dramatic pause. "If I wanted one."

"Yes, yes. We all know you want to become a spinster," Hanna sighed with the air of someone who had heard it too many times.

"Damn right I do!" Anja declared happily.

"Language," Zofia chided as if in an afterthought.

This whole family was ridiculous. But they were also undeniably good people. And great help. A glance at Jaskier revealed that the bard was smiling as he watched the scene unfolding. That was more than worth putting up with all the strangeness.

"Do you mind if I leave now?" Jaskier asked, shelling one last pea pod.

"Not at all. Thank you for the help," Zofia said sincerely. "You didn't have to do it."

"I was happy to," Jaskier shrugged, starting to head towards the door.

With a nod Geralt followed the bard before taking the lead before they stepped into the tavern. Apparently Jaskier still wasn't ready to enter new areas first, their room not counting, no matter how familiar they had become. It was a strange little detail but not something that was particularly bothersome. The bard would get over it when he would. There were more important things to focus on.

"We never returned the vase, did we?" Jaskier checked as they started to climb the stairs. "Also, do you want to get lunch soon? I'm hungry."

Geralt would have agreed in the blink of an eye even if he had been stuffed.

"Sure, I could eat," he said, trying not to show how damn relieved he was because of the small -huge- remark.

It was hard to pace himself instead of just shoveling the soup and bread into his mouth. It was strange, suddenly acting like this after such a long time of barely having the will to eat. Or, well, maybe it actually wasn't that strange considering he had been involuntarily halfway to starving himself. Jaskier guessed his body just had had finally enough of it and was trying to correct it. All at once.

"Geralt, I did something completely new today," Jaskier mentioned, deciding talking was the best way to stop eating for a bit to let his stomach settle. "Several things actually since I've never before done woodwork. But I spent time outside. Without you."

Seeing the dawning amazement on Geralt's face felt wonderful.

"That's… That's really great, Jaskier," Geralt said, an actual smile on his lips. It was a lovely look on the Witcher.

"I didn't even panic. Although, I must admit it was really fucking scary. Still, I got through it," Jaskier continued before giving in and eating a few spoonfuls faster than he should have. "Brajan kept talking to me the whole time which was an immense help and he realized when I needed a break. Unlike me. He was also fine with it when I told him that I couldn't go back out to finish the work with him."

"He's a good man," Geralt nodded.

A high praise coming from him.

"Is it weird I'm proud of having managed that? It feels silly," Jaskier asked quietly, embarrassed by the admission. "It's honestly such a normal thing, going out for a bit. Not some chivalrous deed worth singing about."

"You should be proud of yourself. Doesn't matter if it's normal for most. It's a huge success for you," Geralt rebutted immediately. After a pause he added. "...I'm proud of you too, Jaskier."

"Oh," ...that was… Jaskier wasn't even sure how to describe the feeling hearing Geralt's words created. "Thank you. Truly."

"Hmmm."

With that they lapsed back into silence as he started eating again and Geralt was his usual self. It was only as Jaskier was reaching for another bread roll that Geralt spoke up. "No. You're done eating for now. You'll make yourself sick otherwise. Give it an hour."

"Right, right. Sorry."

"Don't apologize," Geralt huffed predictably. "It's good you're eating again. Just do it slower."

"Will do. Sorry I need your help even when the problem is suddenly the opposite," Jaskier said, fingers twitching to reach for that bread, his bowl already empty.

"What did I just say?" Geralt deadpanned.

"Oops. Thanks for helping. That's what I meant to say," Jaskier corrected himself.

Geralt gave a satisfied nod at that and continued to eat his own lunch. It was strange being the one who had finished first. Even normally it was a rare occurrence since usually he had kept taking bites in between chattering. But here he was, sitting idly, eyeing the bread, and starting to realize how tired he was again. Going out really had been draining.

"Rest?" Jaskier requested once Geralt was finally done.

It'd be futile to try pushing himself to do anything else. It'd probably just devolve into a shitshow with the way his energy reserves were running low. Right as they were leaving the table, Jaskier grabbed the bread roll that had been taunting him and put it in his pocket.

Bread in his pants, how nostalgic.

As Jaskier climbed on the bed, the bread roll placed on the nightstand, he patted the mattress next to him. "Join me for a cuddle?"

"Under the covers?"

"Yes please."

It truly was a wonderful sensation to be able to lay down with Geralt like this. To be allowed to do so. To be able to hear the slow and strong heartbeat. To feel the rising and falling of the Witcher's chest.

To know he was safe.

To know he was loved.

"Geralt? Could… could you hold me? Just one arm and don't press, please," Jaskier requested quietly, knowing Geralt could feel and hear how his heart sped up. He hoped the specific limitations weren't too bothersome.

"Are you sure?"

It was sweet how Geralt kept checking he wasn't asking for such things on a whim he'd regret.

"I am," it was the truth. He did feel ready for it. Maybe it wouldn't last long but right now it was something he was sure of. He knew Geralt wouldn't hold him a second longer than he was comfortable with. Would let go at the first request or a move to get away. Wouldn't touch him anywhere he didn't want.

As Geralt slowly and gently moved his arm to hold him, Jaskier felt secure in the half-embrace.

"I love you, Geralt," he murmured with a small smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NO ANGST????? + A smooch pic! 😘 
> 
> And for once I actually spent some time on it. Have been a bit lazy lately... You can find more art on my Instagram @damatris92 if you feel like checking it out. ❤️
> 
> Also, taking the next week off.


	79. Chapter 79

Jaskier felt terribly awkward standing just inside the inn's kitchen, having most of the family's eyes focusing on him, only Brajan missing as he was taking care of the counter. It was early enough in the morning for the customer service to be basically nonexistent to make sure it was fine for everyone to gather for a while before dispersing to take care of their respective jobs to ready for the day.

But Geralt was a steadying presence next to him.

"Uh… Thank you for gathering. Agreeing to do this means a lot to me. As does being allowed to spend time with you. You already know I'm an absolute disaster," Jaskier ignored the displeased sounds that his wording caused and continued. "I think I should share a little with you. Lena, I don't blame you at all for what happened but it did make me realize that I need to specify some things."

This was starting to feel like a horrible idea even though Jaskier knew it was a very good one. At least Geralt's hand in his was grounding.

"There was an …incident… slightly over a month and a half ago that seriously fucked me up," Jaskier had to take a pause to swallow tears back and make sure he kept breathing. Fuck this was hard. "I'm obviously still not over it."

"There's plenty of aftereffects. You've witnessed some. Occasional trouble speaking. The panic attacks and the way I turned unresponsive. Might also get flashbacks," and here came the tears.

Another break to ensure his steadily constricting throat would get words out. It was incredible how patient the family was being as he struggled to speak.

"I have strong triggers. Touch from anyone but Geralt, asking me to undress no matter the intent," if they hadn't connected the dots before, everyone would surely know what had happened after this. "Suggesting a bath. Things I can sometimes handle but make me anxious are staying alone. Being surrounded by strangers. Going outside without Geralt. Don't do well with aggression either."

The list felt never-ending. Jaskier was beyond grateful no one was interrupting his teary monolog. He knew he wouldn't be able to start again if he stopped.

If Geralt was a human his hand would be crushed by now.

"I… I think that covers the most important things," Jaskier said, trying to keep his breathing under control. It wasn't going well. "I'm so sorry for being such a horrible bother."

"You're not!" Anja protested, others making their agreements known. Jaskier couldn't do more than shake his head in negation and clutch his beads and Geralt's hand.

"Is there something that works for you when having an attack?" Zofia asked kindly.

"Talking, reminding where I am, that I'm safe. Asking to list things around me. Getting Geralt. Loud noise to get my attention if I'm unresponsive but not yelling."

"That's good to know," she nodded. "Thank you so much for telling us, Jaskier. I can see it wasn't an easy decision. We'll be sure to remember those things."

"I- I need to… leave. Leave. I want to-" Jaskier gasped. He couldn't do this a second longer. His fingers were tingling and the too familiar coldness was starting to spread inside him.

"Go," Zofia said at the same time as Geralt tugged his hand and started to lead him out.

This was why they had stayed by the door.

To make getting out easier.

Once safely in their room Jaskier let himself collapse onto his knees, fighting against the panic and memories trying to swallow him down. He couldn't do more than fold into himself and cry, breaths out of control. He couldn't deal with this. He couldn't. Talking had been a horrible idea. He was again falling into pieces and the family must have realized what had happened to him. Must have realized how weak he was. How he carried worse stains than ink on his skin. They surely would start acting differently, wouldn't want someone like him around. He should have told from the start. He shouldn't have said anything, shouldn't have let them know the reason. It wasn't fair to make them carry the knowledge, especially for Ella and Anja. Those girls were so young. He should just leave. Should stop being a blight on the family's lives.

After what felt like an eternity Jaskier started to register Geralt's voice repeating the familiar mantra, telling him he was safe and everything was fine, reminding him where he was.

Asking him to list things around them and breathe.

"...The bed… Saddlebags… Lute case…" Jaskier mumbled, continuing until he slowly came back to himself. "Hi."

"Here," Geralt said, offering him water. "Feeling better?"

"Mmmm. Exhausted," Jaskier sighed, wiping tears away before taking the mug into his shaking hands.

"Go back to sleep. It's too early for you to be up anyway," Geralt stated, observing him closely.

They both had known he'd definitely have another panic attack either after or in the middle of explaining. Had talked about it in advance. Didn't make having one any easier. It was almost worse knowing an attack was happening soon and there wasn't anything he could do about it. After grabbing the weighted blanket Jaskier returned to the bed, trying to make himself comfortable despite the faint tremors still running through him. The warm weight covering all of him did help.

"Sit with me?" Jaskier requested quietly.

Geralt took a seat next to him on the bed, giving a deep sigh. "Sleep, Jaskier. You'll feel better afterwards."

"Let's hope so. I'd like to restart the morning on a more positive note," Jaskier said, snuggling deeper under the blanket. "At least it's done now."

"You did great," Geralt assured him. The Witcher even sounded sincere.

"Mmhmm," Jaskier hummed. His eyelids were terribly heavy. There was no reason to fight against it so he let them close, already feeling sleep coming to claim him.

The morning did indeed feel like a better one when Jaskier woke for the second time. He was stiff and achy from the muscle tension caused by the panic attack but his head was clearer. Which was frankly more important. Perhaps this could be a good day despite the less than ideal start.

As Jaskier sat up Geralt stirred, having been meditating on the floor. "Better?"

"Yeah. Stiff and a little sore but otherwise I feel fine," Jaskier agreed, getting up.

"We have space for stretching," Geralt noted. "Want to do it?"

It was true, the table was still downstairs leaving more empty space on the floor.

"Sure, why not," Jaskier shrugged. It could only do good. …Or make his muscles ache even more. Getting up he added. "Shall we start?"

It was obvious the moves were supposed to be gentle for muscles and light in activity but by the time they had finished, Jaskier was breathing heavily from the exertion. It was a very different kind of exercise from walking slowly around the forest paths. That was good but he really should get in the habit of doing this each morning when possible. He did want to get back into a better shape. It was disturbing how his physical health had been destroyed alongside his mental.

The Witcher definitely wouldn't have any objections to him wanting to exercise.

"...Geralt… I'm scared," Jaskier whispered as they stepped out of their room. "Scared of their reactions. That they'll start treating me differently. They'll definitely have figured out what happened. Know that I'm-"

"Don't you dare to finish that bullshit sentence," Geralt cut him off. "You're overthinking, that family isn't going to suddenly turn their backs on you or start treating you like you're going to shatter any second."

Jaskier didn't feel like remarking that he did indeed feel like he'd shatter in pieces far too often.

It was a relief when Brajan turned out to be still manning the counter. He really could use a little more time to get used to the idea of the whole family having a good picture of what had happened. It wasn't something he wanted to advertise. He had a reputation and having been assaulted wasn't something he wanted to start circulating in the gossip mill, didn't want people to focus on it, didn't want it to affect his career any more than it already was, didn't want it thrown into his face by strangers or have them decide he truly was free game to pass around and bend over the nearest surface. It was safest to keep it to himself. It was rather amazing he had grown to trust these people enough to open up and place himself in danger.

Hopefully it wouldn't backfire.

Jaskier truly didn't know if he would be able to trust people ever again if this turned out to be a mistake.

"Morning, you two," Brajan greeted them. "I heard the talk went well."

The innkeeper had apparently a low criteria for things going well.

"Mmm. I managed," Jaskier evaded, not wanting to get into it. "Could we get breakfast? Also… I'd like to play this evening if it's fine with you. I probably can't make it a full length performance but…"

"Of course you can. The evenings have felt quiet without your music," Brajan said immediately, looking almost excited. "There's no set time you need to fulfill, just play as you please."

"Thanks," Jaskier said with a twitch of lips that was meant to be a smile before heading to get a table.

It was calming to take a seat at their regular table and press his back against the wall. One less direction to keep an eye on. And strangely enough the routine of it felt weirdly comforting. He had never been one to enjoy days staying the same, wouldn't have become a traveling bard if monotony was something he liked. Yet here he was, feeling better when he had an idea of what to expect from each day. When they stayed relatively similar.

"Can we go to the clearing so I can practice?" Jaskier asked, fishing the ring box out of his pocket to fiddle with. Thankfully it had avoided the flooding ink. "Been too long since the last time."

"Sure," Geralt agreed easily. "I can do mine at the same time."

As their food arrived Jaskier could feel how his mouth started salivating at the sight. It was so weird, suddenly wanting to constantly eat. He had gotten used to food making him vaguely nauseated almost each time. But this was probably a positive change or at least he hoped so. As long as it was kept in check and he wouldn't end up overeating and making himself sick. It'd be nice if things would normalize soon. Maybe he just needed to go from one end of the spectrum to another first.

While Jaskier did his best to control his speed, helped by Geralt's disapproving looks whenever he ate too quickly, it didn't take long at all before they were ready to fetch Roach and leave.

"Geralt, do you think I really did the right thing by explaining a little bit about my reactions?" it was hard to get rid of the niggling doubt.

"You did," Geralt said immediately. "It was good for you and will help them not to set you off."

"Mmhmm. I guess. It's just… They'll know for sure now if they hadn't guessed before. It's terrifying, giving them a way to really break my heart," Jaskier confessed. It was impossible to look Geralt in the eye so he focused on making Roach comfortable while they'd stay at the clearing.

"Jaskier, they won't use it against you," Geralt assured him calmly.

"I hope so. There's no taking it back so I just need to get used to the idea," Jaskier sighed, petting the mare before collecting his lute and wandering to sit on the tarp Geralt had spread out. It was nice not to have to sit on the damp ground. The Witcher had been right about the rain.

"I don't have enough energy to join your warmup if you were about to ask," Jaskier said as Geralt moved into the first stance.

"That's fine," Geralt replied, not even glancing at him.

With that they both focused on their respective practices.

It really had been too long since the last time he had done this. His fingers felt clumsy against the strings and using all of his vocal range demanded far too much attention. It shouldn't be this hard. Nothing else to do about it than keep practicing. It wasn't as if he had actually lost his talent, it was just a bit rusted. Jaskier played until his fingertips gave the first protests about the strings. Not wanting to push it he simply continued singing for a while without the accompanying melodies of the lute before falling silent. It didn't take too long for Geralt to finish after him and join him on the tarp with Jaskier's permission, bringing water and snacks.

Still dedicated to making him eat then.

"Thanks," Jaskier said, taking the offered jerky and bit into it with enthusiasm. Actually tasting things again was amazing.

"Hmmm," Geralt seemed satisfied with his reaction.

After licking the residual salt off his fingers Jaskier started to talk seriously. "Geralt, I'm worried about my career. I can barely get through tavern performances and can't really interact with the audience afterwards. Busking is out of question as are festivals and competitions. It'll definitely take me a long time before I can accept any commissioned performances which will make me drop out of the radar, out of being even a candidate. The thought of going to sing for someone on a personal request in their manor or castle makes me want to puke. And… I'm not sure if I can teach at Oxenfurt either for ages. Holding a lecture? Yeah, right, not happening. Even songwriting is hard."

"That's…" Geralt trailed off, frowning.

"Fucking shitty," Jaskier ruefully completed the sentence for him. "It's infuriating how my issues are tangled with all the things needed in the bardic profession. A bard who can't stand attention? Sounds like a joke."

"You're not a joke, Jaskier," Geralt said with feeling. "If anything, it's damn impressive you're still working at all."

"It's not. I just don't know what else to do with my life," Jaskier argued. "I love music too much to give it up."

"Your passion being stronger than the fear _is_ impressive."

There Geralt went again, saying such things as if they were irrefutable facts.

"Joke or not, my career is in shambles and I fucking hate the idea of all my work building it going to waste," Jaskier continued, feeling both angry and discouraged. "It took me years to get to this point. And now, poof, gone."

"It's not gone, Jaskier. It'll just be a bit slower for a while," Geralt disagreed, stubborn look on his face. "You're not forgettable enough for people to not remember you even if you take a break or do fewer things for a while."

"You're too irritating for that," he added with an almost imperceptible twitch of lips.

"Hah! It's my talent that will live on if anything," Jaskier claimed, feeling slightly better. "Hey, Geralt, did I ever tell you why I started following you?"

The Witcher gave him a flat look. "For the stories."

"That too, very much and mainly so," Jaskier nodded. "But I knew you were a good man even before the elves and all that."

"Hmmm?"

"You were the only one who paid me for the performance in Posada. And it was your last coin too," Jaskier said, knowing his expression was melting into something sappy at the memory.

"I don't remember that," Geralt mused.

"I'm not surprised. That definitely wasn't anything momentous to you. But it was for me," Jaskier confided happily. "I was fresh out of Oxenfurt and kind of over my head."

"Really? Didn't notice," Geralt interrupted.

"You should lower your sarcasm intake, Geralt. It's not good for your health," Jaskier snarked back before continuing. "And there you were, all brooding, enigmatic, and handsome in your corner. Simply irresistible."

At that Geralt gave a disbelieving huff.

"It's true! You're absolutely gorgeous. That aside, a big part of why I stuck around afterwards was because I found out you were kind. It shows, no matter how hard you try to hide and smother it. You're too good of a man for it to not be noticeable. I wanted to get to know you. The real you behind all the walls. One of the best things I've ever done in my life. Putting up with all that growling was worth it. Worth befriending you. Worth this," Jaskier finished, gesturing between them.

How the fuck Jaskier could be so open about his love was a mystery. One Geralt was sure he'd never be able to fully comprehend. The bard simply spewed words like that without even blinking or feeling self-conscious.

But it was so good to hear him chatter.

It was familiar, and a concrete sign of Jaskier feeling better. He had missed it. A lot.

"Hmmm."

At least he didn't curse. Maybe next time he'd be able to use actual words. Maybe. But Jaskier seemed to understand what the hum meant. Good thing the bard had keen hearing for slight changes in tone.

Jaskier hadn't reacted well last time to trying to talk about the future but… "You're not planning to spend winter at Oxenfurt then?"

"I don't know. It's not something I'd look forward to but…" Jaskier said, looking down at the ground and started to fidget with his beads.

"Stay with me. Come to Kaer Morhen," Geralt requested. It felt like a huge thing to ask. It felt right.

"Are you sure? Won't the others resent having a human there? Especially one as messed up as I?" Jaskier asked quietly.

"I'm completely sure. No, you're not messed up and they won't resent you," Geralt stated. "I want you there, Jaskier."

He didn't want Jaskier to leave his side. Not only because of the constant worry but because he loved him. Dearly. The words just weren't forming. He could only hope the bard would be able to read between the lines and understand what stayed unsaid. Geralt wished he had made more progress with talking about his feelings, that he could be as open as Jaskier deserved.

An impossible goal since Jaskier deserved the world.

And he'd always fall short.

"I… I'd like that. Staying with you. I just don't want to be an inconvenience with all my problems, intruding into your family's lives," Jaskier mumbled, still avoiding his eyes.

"You are-" Geralt couldn't force himself to say _family_. He wanted to. Very much. "not an inconvenience. Never could be."

"Let me think about it?"

"Of course. Winter is still months away too. We don't have to have a plan just yet," this had definitely gone better than last time.

"Mmhmm."

"Are you done with practice? It's getting close to lunch time," Geralt changed the subject. Best to let things rest for now. Besides, Jaskier did need to eat. "We should go."

"Yeah, I'm done," Jaskier agreed and got up after placing his lute back in its case.

The bard sounded like he was done with more than the training. Probably getting tired again. But there wasn't anything they had to do before Jaskier's performance so he'd be able to rest for as long as he wanted after eating. Or needed. If it was about wanting, Jaskier would be bouncing and prancing around like a foal let out on the fields for the first time, filled with what seemed like a never-ending reserves of energy and enthusiasm.

Speaking of horses. "Want to ride?"

"No, I'm fine with walking," Jaskier said, saddling Roach.

By the time they reached the inn Jaskier was sitting on her back.

Life really wasn't supposed to be this tiring. People weren't meant to be just as exhausted after waking up from a long nap as they had been before falling asleep. Granted, he had had a rather rough start to the day and also done light exercise before going to the clearing. It was more than usual lately. Still, things shouldn't be this draining. Refusing to open his eyes Jaskier sighed and turned onto his other side. He might be awake but he wasn't ready to face the world yet.

"Jaskier?"

No.

Jaskier stayed silent and pulled the blanket up to his ears to hide underneath it. Reality could wait.

Geralt gave a matching sigh but did let him be. That at least was a relief. Everything felt too heavy at the moment. He needed a break from it all for a little longer, to simply be and breathe. It was kind of Geralt not to add anything more to bear. He'd get up at some point.

The some point turned out to be several hours later.

"Hi," Jaskier muttered as he pulled the blanket down to reveal his face completely.

"How are you feeling?" Geralt asked, eyes searching for clues.

"Tired. Hungry. Rest is anyone's guess," Jaskier shrugged and sat up. He really wasn't sure how he was feeling aside from those. At least it meant he wasn't doing terribly, that he was far too familiar with to mistake for anything else.

"Let's go have dinner then," Geralt said promptly, nodding towards the door.

"Sure," once Jaskier had retrieved his lute, he looked at the Witcher and added. "May I have an early good luck kiss for the performance?"

"Absolutely," Geralt agreed, lines of his face softening.

Jaskier could feel the light peck he had placed on Geralt's lips on his own even after the kiss had ended. Slight tingling and warmth. A shadow of being loved. It was a pleasant sensation.

The scent of the food on his plate a little later was almost as pleasant.

It was a relief that the nebulous feeling swirling in his chest wasn't stripping him of his appetite. Jaskier was perfectly content being able to eat without having to fight for each bite. Or rather, now he had to fight against stuffing his face too quickly. But it was a different kind of a fight and this variation was refreshing. Geralt was also shooting him glares that were helpful and reproachful in equal measures whenever Jaskier's own self-control failed.

It felt too soon when Jaskier deemed it to be time to start playing. His heart was racing again and the swirling was starting to turn into a whirlpool trying to suck him in.

Five steps.

Jaskier gritted his teeth together in frustration as his legs refused to carry him any farther from the Witcher and the safety he granted. Maybe it was just the pause in performances, the lack of attention lately. Maybe he'd do better the next time. He had to. Like he had said to Geralt earlier, his career was in shambles. It'd be nice to regain his freedom of movement at least. Something, anything.

Three deep breaths to center himself. Then the intro. Then the songs. He knew this. Could do this.

Jaskier hoped the tremor in his voice wasn't too noticeable as he introduced himself. Once again he was acting like a nervous first-timer shaking in his boots instead of the seasoned bard with accomplishments under his belt that he was.

The longer he sang, the easier it became. His voice steadied and fingers started to dance nimbly on the strings instead of fumbling clumsily. No new steps forward were achieved, only defeated ones back towards Geralt. Jaskier really wished he could have been able to stand his ground. But no, the rising anxiety forced him to either go back to Geralt or start hyperventilating.

It was an easy choice to make.

It wasn't a second too early when Jaskier's fingers started to sting, the lute strings starting to cause discomfort. Technically he could have stopped before that happened but he just didn't want to let the anxiety get the better of him. Having some other reason to cut the performance short didn't make him feel as bad. Didn't cause quite as strong feeling of defeat.

"Well. That was that," Jaskier muttered to Geralt as he sat back down to wait for some of the listeners to come to him.

"Jaskier, stop that," Geralt commanded, watching him keep pressing his irritated fingertips together.

It was harder to do than say.

Especially when the audience started to swarm around them. Or rather, it felt like that. Jaskier knew there weren't actually enough people for it to be true. But the break in singing had definitely done good for people's willingness to pay him. Better profit, worse tolerance for strangers.

"I need to leave," Jaskier whispered too quietly for humans to hear. He was sure he'd start biting his nails if he stayed any longer.

In response Geralt stood up immediately. "Let's go."

"My apologies," Jaskier said, swiping last of the coins off the table and shouldering his lute. It was a relief when no one tried to stop him from leaving.

Escaping.

"Are you alright?" Geralt asked as Jaskier sat down on their bed and placed his head between his knees.

"Yeah. I just need a moment," Jaskier mumbled, focusing on breathing calmly. The coldness that had started to spread inside his chest was already retreating. "Didn't stay downstairs for too long."

"Good. Mind if I sit with you?" Geralt said, not moving until Jaskier gave permission.

It took a while before Jaskier felt well enough to lift his head and look at the Witcher. "Geralt, could you hold me?"

"Of course," Geralt agreed, opening his arms for Jaskier to close the distance.

"Thanks. It's just been a long day," Jaskier sighed, enjoying the feeling of Geralt gently rubbing circles between his shoulder blades.

"Hmmm."

"I did quite a lot. Which sounds silly when you think about today. But it does feel like that," he continued, closing his eyes. "I just… can't do much per day. I tire too easily. Both mentally and physically which is beyond frustrating. But I'm starting to slowly accept it. Accept that I simply can't do everything I want to or could before all this no matter how hard I'd push myself. At some point I'd just unravel and I don't want that to happen."

"Jaskier, that's really great. I'm glad you're finally starting to listen to your limits purposefully, figuring out what you can and can't do safely and actually acting accordingly," Geralt said seriously. "I'm sure with time you'll be able to do more. Even if some days keep being harder than others."

"I guess," Jaskier murmured into Geralt's shirt, wanting to believe the Witcher.

"I know so," Geralt stated with a huff.

"It's good one of us has unshakable trust and optimism," Jaskier shook his head, tone fond. "I'd like to borrow some of it. It seems I've misplaced mine."

"I'm happy to lend some. But you should get ready for bed. You need sleep," Geralt said, extracting himself from the embrace and headed towards the door to give him privacy.

While Jaskier would have loved to stay as they were for a while longer, he had to admit Geralt was right. He'd probably have dozed off soon, both his heart and body warmed by the gentle contact.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You did it, Jaskier! You talked about your triggers with other people, let them know how to help!


	80. Chapter 80

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Brief mentions of intrusive thoughts of violent / self-destructive nature. Nothing graphic and more time is spent on Jaskier sincerely going "that's not what i actually want and now I'm scared" but just a heads up. 
> 
> You can skip all mentions by not reading the things between these sentences: 
> 
> "Except Jaskier was absolutely sure Geralt hated seeing him in bodies of water." to "Which Jaskier fully intended to do. He was a stubborn little shit and wouldn't let this conquer him."
> 
> And "Geralt's fists kept flexing open and closed as if the Witcher wanted to hit something." to "Are you angry at me?" Jaskier asked in a small voice, not being able to fully squish the feeling under his metaphorical heel."

As Jaskier stared at the filled washbasin he couldn't help but wonder if he had made a mistake.

But he wanted to try washing without Geralt standing guard outside the door when he actually wasn't feeling filthy or like a stranger in his own skin. When there were no disgusting echoes of touch affecting his decision. When it was a good morning and Geralt leaving for his ride hadn't yet made his anxiety worsen much. Maybe it could go well.

He wouldn't touch his hair.

With a glance at the locked door Jaskier unbuttoned his doublet and folded it neatly before placing it on the chair next to him. The familiar tremor built in his hands as he tugged his chemise off of the waistband and stopped moving for a minute before hastily yanking it completely off.

His heart was beating too fast.

This shouldn't be as frightening as it was.

Scrubbing hard with a washcloth felt good, feeling how dirt, imaginary or not, lifted off his skin. Only clean and bright pink skin left behind. Maybe he was slightly too forceful in his movements. Jaskier wasn't sure. But it felt good. Made him clean. He wanted to be clean.

The red skin felt tingly and too warm against his palm as Jaskier pressed a hand against his forearm. Rubbing too hard then. But it was working. Touching his bare skin wasn't sending shivers of panic down his spine. Grabbing the cloth again, Jaskier continued with the same fervor.

Splaying a hand against his naked chest didn't make his breath hitch.

Jaskier didn't want to take his trousers off to continue washing.

He did.

Soon enough his calves were just as red as his torso and arms that were safely hidden under his shirt again. They were simply clean. This hadn't been as bad of an idea as Jaskier had feared so far. Even with the way his heart was racing. He could breathe without a fight. Things were okay. Things could be much worse. He was still fine. For now. At the moment.

Mostly.

Touching the scars on his back made cold shivers run down Jaskier's spine and eyes sting. He scrubbed at them some more. Marden had touched them without anything blocking the skin contact. He needed to be throughout in washing the area. Get the imprints off.

It took time.

Maybe he should ask if they could go to the lake more often.

Except Jaskier was absolutely sure Geralt hated seeing him in bodies of water.

There wasn't much he could have done to hurt Geralt more. Except for actually trying to kill himself. Which he had no plans or true desire to do. Even if it was occasionally kind of a tempting idea, something he'd _never_ confess to Geralt. Existence just was exhausting and keeping intrusive thoughts away wasn't always possible, no matter how frightening they could be. But no, he'd just grit his teeth and get through the best he could. It was getting better, easier. Slowly. There had even been actually good days lately. Geralt kept telling him they'd start increasing. Jaskier wanted to believe it, trusted the Witcher with all of his heart. But Geralt was fallible, might be wrong. No other way to find out than keep going.

Which Jaskier fully intended to do. He was a stubborn little shit and wouldn't let this conquer him.

Fuck Marden.

Hopefully the king was rotting in the deepest pit of hell.

Touching his scars wasn't as horrible anymore even if there was unpleasant feeling from both over vigorous rubbing and the ever present fear. But this was better. It was easier than last time to run his hands down his buttocks too.

He wasn't crying yet. Wasn't hyperventilating. Things were going better.

Maybe this hadn't been a bad idea.

Only a highly unpleasant one.

Jaskier couldn't help but wonder if intimate touch would someday be a pleasure again. Like touching Geralt had become something to treasure instead of fear.

It was a shame he couldn't scrub his crotch the same way as the rest of his body, do it until his skin was stinging in its cleanliness. At least briefly touching himself with a bare hand didn't send him into a panic attack.

Progress.

It was a relief when he could redress, snatching one of Geralt's shirts to change for the current one. As Jaskier straightened it, he was slowly starting to realize something was wrong with the way he was feeling. Thinking.

He couldn't pinpoint what. Just… something.

Maybe it'd be better, safer, not to be alone.

He didn't want to do anything ill-thought-out.

Hugging his neatly folded weighted blanket tightly Jaskier carefully made his way to the inn's kitchen, wary of the few patrons milling around. They were unknowns, possible threats. Might do something. Might grab him. Drag him somewhere. He needed to be vigilant until reaching safety again. With a nod Jaskier passed Lena who was behind the counter.

He was safe now.

Away from the places where strangers were allowed to be.

"Hello, Jaskier," Brajan greeted him as he spotted him standing at the threshold of the kitchen. "Come in."

"..." Jaskier tried to thank the innkeeper only to find out that the words weren't coming out. Oh shit. He would have liked to be wrong about feeling weird.

Very much so.

"Jaskier, calm down. Come sit, whatever is going on will pass. You're safe and nothing here is wrong," Brajan said soothingly, clearly noticing his mounting upset.

It was a relief the innkeeper was observant.

Was reminding him of the truth.

Wasn't looking at him in disgust as his words still weren't cooperating. He couldn't thank Brajan. He wanted to. He really did. But all Jaskier could do was to hurry to sit down in his usual spot and unfurl the weighted blanket to cover himself. The warm pressure was grounding. Made him aware of how numb he had been turning. Things were little easier now. More focused. More real. More… more.

It was better.

It was worse.

There were tears starting to blur his vision.

Something really was wrong with him.

Jaskier still wasn't sure of what specifically.

So he just curled up and drew the blanket tighter around himself.

The tears had started to fall.

But he could breathe.

And he wasn't alone.

Was safe.

"Jaskier? Can I do something?" Brajan's voice felt farther away than it should.

Jaskier shook his head. He couldn't think of anything the innkeeper could do. He wanted to be held and that wasn't something Brajan would offer or he could accept.

"Do you want tea? Or me to talk to you, give you a distraction?"

Distraction sounded good.

After a small nod from Jaskier Brajan continued speaking and working. "Zofia is going to join us soon. Hopefully she won't startle you when coming in. But even if you do startle it's perfectly fine, nothing wrong with that, just a natural reaction. Girls probably won't be stopping by since they're busy elsewhere. Hanna has a day off and has gone out. Lena is at the counter so she might actually poke her head in once in a while. Ella is cleaning the rooms and Anja is at the stable."

It was calming to listen to Brajan tell what everyone was doing. Have something else to focus on than the strange feeling swirling in his chest.

Jaskier was glad to notice his tears were slowing down.

Zofia entering the kitchen did startle him, making Jaskier flinch and the tears to renew themselves. She gave him a pitying look at the reaction.

No. Not pitying.

Concerned. Compassionate.

Why did everything have to go to hell each time after trying to wash himself without Geralt guarding the door? Even today when it had been easier. This was ridiculous. He was ridiculous.

Brajan kept talking, Zofia chiming in once in a while.

Jaskier had no idea what they were saying. He was too busy getting himself under control again. It was slow going but eventually his tears dwindled down to sniffles and shuddering breath. He wanted to apologize for bothering the couple with his presence. Words were still out of his reach and thoughts choppy. Not having the strength to fight against the urge, Jaskier rearranged his blanket so only his face was showing. It wasn't very comfortable. It was the best he could do.

"Feeling any better?" Brajan asked from the other side of the room.

A shrug was as much of an answer as Jaskier could give. He wondered if it was even visible with the way his blanket was covering him.

"Anything I could get you?"

Geralt.

As Jaskier stayed silent, Brajan filled a pitcher and brought it and a mug over. "Here's water. You should try to drink some."

"Mhmm."

At least it was a sound.

Brajan's face lost few of the frown lines.

The innkeeper seemed to be really worried. He shouldn't be.

"Drink," Brajan repeated and poured him water before going back to work.

It'd be rude now to not even try. With that thought Jaskier snaked one hand out of his blanket cocoon to grab the mug. The water felt good, soothing his throat. He could hear Zofia give a relieved sigh. Why she too was that worried Jaskier didn't know. It wasn't as if he hadn't done worse before.

Maybe it was the lack of speaking.

He wanted to tell them that aside from it he wasn't doing that badly. Was starting to calm down again. Wasn't drifting outside of his body or anything like that. Was just unnerved and dismayed by how his most recent attempt to clean and touch himself had gone; better than last time but worse than he had hoped. He probably should try to lower his expectations for himself. Clearly he was still too fucked up to live up to them.

Jaskier laid his head on top of his folded arms resting on the table and closed his eyes. The sounds of working and the calm conversation were soothing. He had never liked silence much. It was too similar to loneliness. This was better.

"Jaskier?"

At the familiar voice Jaskier lifted his head and opened his eyes to look into Geralt's worried ones. Wordlessly he patted the seat next to him, hoping Geralt would comply. The Witcher did.

"Talk to me, Jaskier. What's wrong?" Geralt asked with an unhappy expression.

Instead of answering, Jaskier opened his arms in a silent request for a hug. He was so glad when Geralt complied again, gently wrapped arms around him. For a while Jaskier couldn't do more than clutch Geralt tightly and breath, not caring they were still in the kitchen.

"...Hi…" Jaskier mumbled feebly into the crook of Geralt's neck.

There was a collection of relieved sounds at his quiet voice. He hadn't meant to worry anyone. Especially badly enough to warrant such strong reactions.

"What happened?" Geralt prompted, not trying to end the hug.

"...Not sure… …Washed, thoughts just… went to a bad place…" Jaskier said haltingly, speaking still difficult.

"Hmmm," Geralt's hum sounded as unhappy as his expression had been.

"...No panic attacks or zoning out. Just… this," whatever it was. "Don't know why talking became impossible. I didn't mean to worry you with it. Any of you. Probably looked worse than it was."

Words were finally starting to flow again. It was a relief. The heavy thoughts were retreating too, leaving his mind clearer.

"Don't play it down," Geralt ordered with a frustrated edge.

"I think I'm not," Jaskier answered. "Sure, it was strange and unpleasant but not that bad. And it's passing now in any case."

Having Geralt here was enormous help. Jaskier still wasn't ready to break the hug. It didn't matter that Geralt's armor wasn't the most comfortable thing to press himself against. Everything else about the action was. Physical contact like this truly had become a source of safety, not terror and fear, when it was with Geralt. Jaskier wondered if he'd be able to shake Brajan's hand. It had been possible, sort of, with Tymon. Maybe he should ask the innkeeper if he could test it. Not now. Not even today. He wanted to get used to the idea first. And definitely not do it when already wound up. Not even he was fool enough for that.

But it might actually be possible with the way he trusted Brajan.

Jaskier reluctantly loosened his hold on Geralt and stood up. "Thanks for letting me stay. I'm sorry for worrying you. It really was mostly just being too worked up and having my words fail."

Neither Brajan or Zofia looked particularly convinced but they didn't accuse him of lying, only gave him the usual reassurances before he exited with Geralt.

"How was the outside world?" Jaskier asked, beelining to the bed.

"Same as always," Geralt informed him blandly, getting under the covers on request so Jaskier could crawl to him for a cuddle. He had almost a physical need to be close to the Witcher.

Maybe Geralt acted currently like a magical charm to keep dark thoughts at bay.

"That's a very broad range of possibilities, Geralt. I'd like to hear some details," Jaskier chided and pressed himself more firmly against Geralt's chest. "Also… Could you hold me? Like last time."

Jaskier couldn't get close enough.

He wanted, needed, to have Geralt's arm around him. To feel that extra sliver of safety and love.

"If you're sure," Geralt said, studying his face.

"Surer than about anything else right now," Jaskier agreed emphatically and sighed in contentment as Geralt gently wrapped one of his arms around his shoulders before continuing. "Thanks. Now, tell me about the great unknown beyond these walls."

"The sky is still blue and grass green," Geralt deadpanned before changing his tone. "Roach was being stubborn."

"Oh? What did the lady do?"

"Didn't want me to check her hooves or go where directed. Tried to eat leaves off the branches," Geralt sounded almost petulant in his recounting.

"Awww. She had a bad morning then. Actually, could we go visit her after resting for a while longer?" Jaskier requested, fighting to keep his eyes open.

"Sure."

"Thanks. These walls are starting to get old," it felt like he hadn't been outside in centuries.

"Hmmm."

They lapsed into silence for a long while, both content as they were. Jaskier almost regretted the decision when he opened his mouth again to break the peace surrounding them. "Washing was easier this time. I could touch my skin without panicking. Although, it was very unpleasant if I'm honest. And clearly something still went haywire in my head."

"Jaskier, don't say that," Geralt reprimanded him.

"Say what? Something being wrong with me?" Jaskier asked, confused. "It's true. My head is one huge mess. But I guess getting really upset is progress compared to a panic attack."

"I don't want to be this scared of my own touch, Geralt," Jaskier confessed quietly, holding on to the Witcher tighter. "I don't want simply running a hand along my arm to be something I have to steel myself for. What if I'll never be ready for you to touch my bare skin? Never be ready for anything but occasional chaste kisses?"

"Then we just don't do more," Geralt said as if it was that simple.

"That's not fa-"

"I'll shove you off this bed if you say it's not fair to me," Geralt growled in warning, interrupting Jaskier.

He would have said that.

"It's just… There's a lot we could do that wouldn't even require me to strip or anything. But I can't let you hold even my waist. My _waist_ , Geralt, _waist_ ," Jaskier muttered, frustrated with himself.

"Jaskier, be honest with me. If you could stand touching, would you want to do anything sexual now?" Geralt asked seriously, voice grave.

"...No…"

"Hmmm, thought so," the Witcher hummed. "It really bothers you, doesn't it?"

"...Yeah. You know I liked to let my trout swim free. I haven't gone without sex for this long since I was a teen. And I don't even _want_ it. It's not… It just feels wrong, not having that drive," Jaskier grumbled.

"Not everyone wants sex and that's fine," Geralt said. "I've told you, will keep telling you, that I don't want to do anything you don't."

"I know and agree. But I never was one of those people. Many pleased partners can attest to that fact," Jaskier more felt than heard Geralt give a small huff at his words. Maybe the Witcher was jealous? "It's like a part of me is missing. Probably a stupid thing to let bother me compared to everything else going on but… I'm not used to this. Wanting you in every way but also not really wanting to do anything most of the time. Concept of making love to you is amazing. Imagining doing it at the moment isn't."

"It's not stupid to miss something that was a part of your life, Jaskier," Geralt said decidedly before a teasing undercurrent made itself known in his tone. "And your trout definitely swam around, especially in dangerous waters."

"If nothing else, now I understand why there's so many different proposed cures for the lack of libido," Jaskier conceded.

"You're not going to test any of them out," Geralt stated immediately.

"Wasn't planning to but now that you mentioned it…" Jaskier grinned.

"Hn."

"Yours is the only net I'd get caught in, you know."

Sky was still blue like Geralt had told him. Whether or not the grass was green Jaskier couldn't confirm since there wasn't any on the short trip to the stable.

"Feeling cranky, girl?" Jaskier crooned as they halted in front of Roach's stall and saw the mare was facing the far wall.

Flick of an ear and a swish of the tail was all the answer Roach deigned to give him. Geralt had to even physically push her butt to make enough room for them to enter.

"Geralt told me you tried to eat foliage. You know it's not very pleasant to eat while wearing a bit. Why would you do that to yourself when you get regularly fed?" Jaskier inquired as he walked towards Roach's head, sliding his hand along her shiny coat. "Are you just being bratty or are you trying to make a point about how long we've been staying here?"

Roach only huffed.

"You can blame me for that."

This time it was Geralt huffing at his words.

"I'm still…" fucked up. "...sick. That's why we aren't roaming around the Continent like usual. But maybe the two of us could convince Geralt to camp out soon? Maybe tomorrow?"

"Hmmm."

That was Geralt's considering hum. They'd probably do so then if the weather stayed fair. And he didn't manage to fall into pieces before it.

"You'd like it, wouldn't you? Getting to graze as much as you like and wander around as much as your picket line and lead rope allow. You aren't made for this kind of sedentary lifestyle. I'm sorry you have to stand still so much," Jaskier said, petting Roach's neck. He really did regret how much the mare was affected, having to stay inside the vast majority of the time. It wasn't as if the inn had corrals. "We could even spend the day simply wandering around. Let you really stretch those legs."

The last sentence was accompanied by Jaskier sliding his hands down Roach's left front leg and nudging her to shift her weight away from it. Without a fight she complied and lifted it up once Jaskier reached her hoof.

"Either she's not moody anymore or she loves me better," Jaskier said, checking her perfectly cleaned hoof. Geralt hadn't missed any rocks.

"Hn."

"Don't worry, dear heart. Roach won't steal me from you."

Geralt's reaction to the endearment was just as delightful as always.

"And I won't steal Roach from you."

"Shut up," Geralt grumbled, trying to appear unruffled and failing miserably.

"Hmmm, no. I feel like talking. Things get dreadfully dull if I don't," Jaskier faux-mused before dropping the tone. "Geralt, do you think we could walk around the block before heading inside for food? I too could stretch my legs."

"Of course," Geralt seemed to be genuinely pleased by the request. "Let me know if you want to turn back."

"Will do," Jaskier agreed as they bid Roach goodbye, both satisfied she had everything she needed or wanted.

Geralt's glance as they exited the stable told Jaskier that the Witcher had noticed his building anxiety. He might want to take a short walk in the streets but it didn't mean it wasn't a scary prospect, going among people out in the open. There was no telling how many passerby there'd be. Except for too many. That was the only accurate guess. But since even one stranger could be too much it was a completely useless estimation.

"Are we being stared at or is it just my paranoia talking?" Jaskier muttered as they stepped into one of the busier streets on their route. His skin was prickling and hands tangled in the beads.

"We're always stared at," Geralt said but did start surveying the streets with more intent.

It was relieving to know Geralt would almost surely spot anything being wrong. But the things that could slip past the Witcher's radar, especially when focused, were bad. Very, very, bad and dangerous.

Deadly.

"Jaskier," Geralt snapped in the tone of someone who had been trying to get his attention for a while.

"Hmmm?"

"Jaskier, look at me," Geralt commanded, making Jaskier lock eyes with him. "There's nothing wrong. Nothing unusual going on. It's safe. Do you understand?"

"Yeah. Just… twitchy and on edge," Jaskier agreed hesitantly, fidgeting with the necklace. His heart had turned into a hummingbird and bones into ice.

"Time out. I need a time out," Jaskier blurted, eyes widening. Things were getting too much. He needed- "A break. Geralt? Can we…?"

"Yes."

Jaskier let Geralt lead him into a small alley, away from the people walking around. The Witcher even positioned himself to block him from sight, giving him as much privacy as possible. The visual illusion of being alone with Geralt was enough for Jaskier to take deeper breaths again and swallow down the anxiety that had been surging. The ice melted back into bone and his heart stopped trying to burst from his chest with its frantic fluttering.

"Thanks," Jaskier sighed once he was calm enough to do so. "Well, now I don't have to keep wondering if the feeling of being observed was real or paranoia."

"Feeling better?" Geralt asked casually as if needing a break to wrestle a faulty brain into submission was a normal part of taking a walk.

It probably was now.

"Yeah, I am. Thanks for shielding me."

"Hmmm."

"It'd be really great if doing something among people without an actual goal to achieve didn't throw me off-balance so quickly," Jaskier grumbled, rubbing his face tiredly.

"Stop being so hard on yourself," Geralt refuted immediately.

"Someone needs to be," Jaskier scowled, making sure the doublet he had changed into before heading out was still covering him properly. That he wasn't accidentally showing even half an inch more skin than absolutely necessary.

"What the fuck does that mean?" Geralt demanded, brows furrowing.

"That thing about needing to constantly push myself to just keep going hasn't changed," it'd be absolutely wonderful if it had. "Choices are still to either lay down and never get up again or constantly kicking my own ass into gear. I prefer the kicking."

Geralt's fists kept flexing open and closed as if the Witcher wanted to hit something.

Jaskier wondered if that something was him, one hit to his jaw and Geralt wouldn't have to listen to any more complaints. Change the angle a bit and make it permanent too. It would be easy to shatter his jaw with the strength Geralt had.

Fuck.

Bad thought. Bad, bad, thought. Completely unfounded and terrible one without an ounce of truth. Geralt would never do that. Why the fuck couldn't these intrusive thoughts be about something fun? At least neutral? Something else than imagining the love of your life maiming you or how breathing in while diving might be a good idea. Because it most definitely wasn't, in any way or shape. Fuck but his head could be a terrifying place to exist in.

"Are you angry at me?" Jaskier asked in a small voice, not being able to fully squish the feeling under his metaphorical heel.

"No."

"...Right," Jaskier mumbled, lowering his eyes so he didn't have to keep looking at Geralt. "Let's go back."

"I'm not angry at you. I'm worried," Geralt said evenly, making Jaskier stay still in surprise. "I don't want you to feel like that."

"Neither do I, Geralt, neither do I," Jaskier sighed wearily in agreement. "But the other options are worse so… Let's just count this one as a win, okay?"

It didn't feel like a fucking win. But Geralt had to concede Jaskier was right about the other options. If the bard still had to fight tooth and nail for everything then he was glad Jaskier was finding the strength to continue doing so. There would come a day when it wouldn't be necessary.

Hopefully Jaskier believed it.

The bard was walking silently and almost glued to his side as they headed back to the inn. His moods seemed to be going up and down today. It was too slow to call them rapid changes but definitely noticeable. At least it meant that having time to recover and unwind was working. Geralt would still prefer Jaskier to have another fully good day but this was far better than a continuously low mood.

"Can you eat before we go upstairs?" Geralt asked as they entered the inn. There had been too long of a gap between meals. Maybe he should start always carrying a small pouch of nuts or something similar that he could give Jaskier while they were out.

Oh hell, he really had turned into a fucking mother hen.

He was still going to do it.

Jaskier had finally started to eat again and he was not going to let the opportunity to shove food into him pass by. He was fucking sick and tired of seeing the bard lose more and more weight. He could feel Jaskier's bones in sharp relief when he was hugged tightly. It was a sensation he could happily live without.

"Mmhmm. I think so," Jaskier said, sounding slightly hesitant.

"Good," in more than one sense.

Even better when Jaskier didn't have much trouble with it. Fell asleep almost immediately after laying down too, not startling awake due to nightmares.

The bard was fidgeting with his lute's strap as he observed the crowd around them. Geralt could hear his heart beating in the far too familiar pattern of anxiety.

"Jaskier. You'll be fine," he said quietly, drawing Jaskier's attention to himself. The bard needed to refocus on something concrete before he'd get sucked into a whirlpool of imaginary worst-case scenarios.

"Ah. Yeah, yeah. I got this," Jaskier nodded and swallowed nervously before walking away from their table.

Seven steps.

It was better than in a long time Geralt noted, pleased. Jaskier's body language didn't show as much satisfaction as Geralt thought was warranted. Stubborn bard and his self-appointed standards. He should realize that making progress after such a tumultuous day was an amazing feat in itself. Not for the first time Geralt wished he could simply shove the facts into Jaskier's brain.

There was still that barely there tremor in the bard's voice as he introduced himself and started the first song but Geralt doubted many would even notice it. Jaskier probably thought it to be much more noticeable than it actually was. To stifle a frustrated growl Geralt lifted his tankard to take a long drink, eyes not leaving Jaskier's figure for a second.

Fuck but the bard was amazing, putting himself out there even when attention from strangers scared him to the core. It was probably what prevented him from radiating joy when singing. There had lately been sparks of it when Jaskier was practicing. Rather dim and short lived but there nonetheless.

Things were getting better.

And that was all Geralt could realistically ask for.

He had been so intent on watching Jaskier that it took him a while to realize that the bard wasn't inching back towards him. Was standing his ground, bearing the looks and reactions of his audience. The glances Jaskier kept periodically giving him seemed to be enough to keep his anxiety at bay.

Fuck. Now he wanted to march up to the bard and kiss him.

Instead Geralt drowned the impulse into his beer before asking Hanna for another as she came over to take the empty tankard and place it on the tray already almost filled with them that she was carrying.

He was halfway through his second drink when Jaskier finally started to slowly walk towards him, eyes too wide and face pale. The bard should have apparently done that a bit earlier. It was hard to keep his face passive instead of scowling at Jaskier. Doing so wouldn't help anything.

"That's all for tonight! I hope you all had a wonderful time and please, do not hesitate to show your appreciation by bestowing a token or two to yours truly," Jaskier finished with an elaborate bow before slumping down in the chair next to him.

The slight tremor had returned into his voice.

"Alright?" Geralt checked as Jaskier gave a deep sigh and closed his eyes briefly.

"Yeah. Better now that I'm back with you," Jaskier nodded, straightening up from his almost sprawl as a few listeners started to head towards them.

Geralt couldn't stop the words from kindling a warm feeling in his chest.

While Jaskier gave short and as polite as he could answer he kept sizing the people approaching, ready to defend Jaskier if anything was amiss. Nothing was. Just normal people fascinated by the bard and his music. Shooting deadly glares at those who seemed to be gearing up to being too familiar worked, no one daring to even start reaching for Jaskier.

As it should be.

"Jaskier, let's go," Geralt said the moment the last one of the patrons turned away.

Without a word Jaskier almost jumped up and hoisted the lute over his shoulder, clearly eager to get away from the bustling tavern now that there was no reason for staying.

"Gods, it's good to be alone again," Jaskier exclaimed the moment he entered their room, heading to place his lute in its case.

"Hmmm."

The pallor of Jaskier's cheeks was slowly getting better again and the skittish look in his eyes fading.

"But it was a profitable evening so that's nice," Jaskier continued, walking around the room as if to rid himself of excess energy. "Great to have something else lining my pockets than only loose threads and lint."

The pacing didn't last long. Soon enough Jaskier flopped down onto the bed, letting his legs hang over the edge. "Ungh. I'm tired."

"Want me to help with the boots?" Geralt asked without thinking, watching the bard idly swing his legs slightly.

Jaskier sat up quickly, staring at him bewildered. "Um, what?"

"Nothing."

What the hell had made him offer that Geralt had no idea.

"I… Sure. If you want to," Jaskier said, still looking at him in surprise.

With slow movements Geralt walked to kneel in front of Jaskier, gently taking hold of his left calf once Jaskier permitted it both with his words and by slightly presenting the leg for him. Removing someone's shoes wasn't supposed to feel this intimate. But neither of them were breaking eye contact or saying anything to disturb the silence enveloping them.

Jaskier's eyes were far too blue and filled with far too much adoration.

Geralt would happily spend an eternity like this.

On his knees, offering Jaskier simple kindness.

Watching the bard radiate love and trust.

Sharing a quiet moment of contentment with the man he wanted to spend his life with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ............80 chapters..............
> 
> H O W ????!!!??


	81. Chapter 81

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Discussion of the same sort of violent / self-destructive intrusive thoughts as last chapter except in much more detail.
> 
> Skip by stopping at: "Jaskier, is there something particular you're afraid of?" Brajan asked with a concerned frown.  
> Start reading again at: Geralt had been ready to leave for a long time before Jaskier entered their room.

"Geralt, wait," Jaskier said distractedly as they were returning to their room after breakfast, having spotted Olga entering the inn.

"Hmmm?"

"I'd like to talk to Olga," he explained, changing directions and heading towards the counter where she had stopped to chat with Zofia.

The closer Jaskier got, the more hesitant he became. Olga had been perfectly polite and friendly with him but they didn't share any sort of a relationship unlike with the rest of the family. He had no idea how she'd react to his request. But he really, really, hoped she'd agree to talk with him, be able to help him make sense of all those horrible intrusive thoughts popping up. He hated being scared of himself on top of everything else.

"Morning Olga. Hello again Zofia," Jaskier started. "I, ah… Could I talk with you in private, Olga?"

"You want to talk about our …common problems… don't you?" Olga asked hesitantly.

"Yeah…"

"I…" she glanced at Zofia. "Okay. But I'd rather not do it alone. Please don't take this personally but I don't really know you that well."

"Could it be with Brajan?" Jaskier requested quietly in turn. He wasn't really comfortable with anyone else than the innkeeper to be part of the conversation.

"I can ask dad," Olga agreed before focusing on Geralt. "Are you planning on coming too?"

Before the Witcher had a chance to even open his mouth Jaskier cut in, turning to address Geralt. "I'd like you not to come. I'm sorry."

He didn't want Geralt to know about this issue. The Witcher would only be alarmed and become even more worried if that was possible. It wasn't something Geralt needed to carry when there were other people he could talk to. It was still kind of a novel experience, being able to confide in anyone else than him. He couldn't have ever guessed that to be a possibility at the start of this nightmare.

It felt good to have regained some trust in people.

There seemed to be a strange mix of displeasure and pride subtly warring on Geralt's face at the request. "Fine. I'll pack everything while you're talking."

"If you're doing it now," he added.

"Brajan isn't doing anything time sensitive at the moment," Zofia informed them. "I'm sure he'll be happy to join you."

Jaskier was once again struck with a wave of gratitude for the innkeeper. Brajan was truly incredible, constantly making time for him and his pathetic problems. Trying his best to help and not wanting anything in return. He had finally accepted it to be the truth. Even his anxiety had trouble finding reasons to doubt it anymore. Not that it didn't try.

"Guess we can do it now then…?" Olga concluded, taking Michal back from Zofia.

"Works for me," Jaskier nodded, taking a bracing breath and glancing at Geralt one last time before following Olga to go find Brajan.

It didn't take long for the three, four if you counted Michal, of them to be seated at the kitchen table which had turned into the usual place for all these heart-to-hearts.

Jaskier bit his lip nervously before starting, fingers fidgeting with his beads. "Thank you, Olga. This can't be easy for you. Please, please, tell me to shut the fuck up the moment I cross some line. Or just walk away."

"Jaskier, I'm not that rude," Olga sounded almost offended.

Great start. Few sentences in and he had already insulted her. His silver tongue had definitely abandoned him.

"I'm sorry! I know you're not," Jaskier hastened to correct himself. "I meant that you should let me know if I make you uncomfortable."

"I will," Olga promised. "You should do the same."

"Yes. You both need to communicate if something is crossing your boundaries," Brajan said emphatically.

"I'll try," Jaskier agreed before hesitantly breaching the topic. "I… I was wondering if you too have these, uh, really disturbing thoughts that just pop up and don't want to leave. Or know anything about them."

"Sure…? I do have unhealthy thought patterns I have to consciously work on," Olga agreed, sounding unsure of her answer.

"Not exactly what I meant. It's more of a single thought at a time that's frightening and keeps circling around," Jaskier corrected, averting his eyes and hunching in shame. "Like yesterday I was suddenly contemplating how Geralt would permanently silence me for complaining by breaking my jaw. And the thought didn't leave for a long time even when I tried to suppress."

"I trust him with all I am. Know he'd never do anything like that. _Never_ ," he added hastily, not wanting either of them to get the wrong idea. "I just couldn't dismiss it. But usually they're about something I'd do."

"Oh, those," Olga said in recognition. "Yeah, I do have them once in a while. They can be scary."

Maybe, maybe, it wasn't because he was broken then.

"What do you do about them?" Jaskier knew there was a desperate edge to his voice.

"Honestly? Note them and do my best to just let them be, not pay them any mind. Remind myself they're just thoughts and not actual signs of anything," Olga shrugged apologetically. "Not that it's as easy as it sounds. Mikolaj helps me deal with them too."

Jaskier wondered if she'd be fidgeting with her beads the same way he was if her hands weren't occupied with holding Michal.

"Aren't you afraid they'll come true? That you'll act the same way as in the thoughts?"

Olga bit her lower lip and glanced at Brajan sitting silently next to her before answering. "I… Yeah. But not as much anymore since I've never acted on them. Impulses yes, but not those."

Jaskier could see the innkeeper close his eyes briefly and take a measured breath. Probably some unpleasant memory resurfacing at Olga's words. He was sorry for causing Brajan distress. It couldn't be easy listening to his daughter talk about such things.

"How do you know if it's an intrusive thought and not an impulse? How can I be sure I won't follow the thought?" Jaskier asked, starting to get agitated.

"Ever done something without thinking? That's an impulse," Brajan interjected.

"...Right," now that someone said it, the difference was glaring. "I definitely have trouble with that. But… What if the thoughts turn into impulses?"

The more he talked about the possibility the more scared of it he became again.

Olga was starting to look uncomfortable.

He should shut up.

"Jaskier, is there something particular you're afraid of?" Brajan asked with a concerned frown.

Tears were starting to well in Jaskier's eyes as he nodded in confirmation. "...I… Sometimes I… get intrusive thoughts of …hurting myself… And I've… done it on impulse more than once, hitting a tree or pulling my hair and such… I don't want to do those either so…"

"I'm sorry, Jaskier. I can't stay for this," Olga stated, voice full of regret tinted with anxiety.

"Thank you so much for talking with me. Please, don't stay if you want to go," Jaskier agreed, trying to force his tears to stay away. "You were beyond kind agreeing to this."

"I hope I could be of at least a little help. And hopefully dad will be able to help more," Olga said, standing up and headed out of the kitchen.

When Jaskier dared to briefly look at Brajan, the innkeeper's expression was carefully neutral and eyes intense.

"Could you tell me more?" Brajan requested, voice just as controlled.

"Please don't tell Geralt," Jaskier mumbled. "He'd react really badly."

"I won't unless it's necessary for your safety," Brajan promised. "I can't give you my word of never doing it regardless of the circumstances."

Fair enough.

"...Okay…"

"Jaskier, before anything else I need to know if you have any plans to harm yourself. Be honest, I won't judge," Brajan said gravely.

"No and I don't want to either. But the thoughts… I'm afraid of them, that I subconsciously do want to and just don't admit it to myself," the first part was easy to say, the second one not so much. "Why else would I have them?

"What I've observed with Olga is that those seem to be fears, not things you want to do," Brajan explained seriously. "But I really do want to hear about your thoughts, try to help you understand them and make sure they aren't impulses like you're afraid of. I want you to be safe, Jaskier."

"Thank you," Jaskier said before having to take a short break to get both his thoughts in order and force tears to stay at bay enough to talk. "I… I don't know if the things I've impulsively done even count as self-harm. It's not a big deal that I've accidentally bruised my knuckles a couple of times by hitting a tree or wall. Or tried to ground myself by pulling at my hair."

"Anything else you've done to yourself?" Brajan asked calmly.

"Once bit my palm. Not hard. And, ah, the nail biting," Jaskier mumbled, shame rising. "I don't think anything else would be even borderline."

"But there is something?" Brajan prompted.

"I just …wash… maybe a little bit too vigorously," Jaskier shrugged, wiping an escaping tear away.

Brajan gave a nod as he studied Jaskier closely. "And those thoughts that prompted you to come talk to us?"

The question was enough to break Jaskier's composure, his next inhale turning shuddery and tears starting to finally roll down his cheeks. "I get- I get these thoughts of… of drowning myself. I don't want to. I really don't. My life is fucked up but it's _mine_. I don't know why the thought keeps coming back. Even worse, sometimes it's _tempting_ when I'm exhausted to bone and just want a break from everything, from existing. And then I get scared of that temptation because I don't want to die."

Jaskier wondered if his words were too garbled due to the crying to understand.

It didn't stop him from talking. "More than once I've thought how I'd rather cut my hands off than make anyone feel uncomfortable by touching them. And we hadn't arrived yet but there was this one time when I had to even warn Geralt to keep an eye on me in case I'd fail a performance. I'm sure I'd have hurt myself if I had botched it."

"I'm just so fucking scared of myself!" the conclusion to his monolog came out as more of a wail than anything else.

Not able to look at Brajan, Jaskier hid his face behind his hands, shoulders shaking with his sobs.

"Oh, Jaskier… Those are terribly heavy fears to carry by yourself," the innkeeper's voice was full of sympathy.

But no disgust at his weakness.

"I believe you about not being suicidal. Just… Jaskier, if you even briefly feel like you truly want to do so or start creating plans how to make it happen, tell someone. Geralt, me, anyone. _Anyone at all_ ," Brajan stressed almost forcefully.

Jaskier really, truly, sincerely, hoped he never would have to.

When the innkeeper didn't continue, he gave a small nod and a quiet agreement.

"Good, I trust you'll keep your word," there was relief in Brajan's voice before he sobered up again. "I don't know if the things you listed are self-harm or not. I'm sorry for not having enough knowledge about this. Although, they're certainly highly worrying and you need to be careful. Don't let them become a habit. But the nail biting... I'm sure you don't want to hear this but with the amount of damage you inflict on yourself I'd say it does fall under it."

That… hurt to hear. Even when Jaskier had had a vague notion of it, one that he hadn't wanted to admit.

"Can you tell me why you do it?" Brajan asked.

"...I don't know. Just need something to do when I'm really anxious, something to channel it into. I don't even think about it before starting. Don't necessarily even notice doing it at all," Jaskier mumbled, still not looking at the innkeeper. "The beads help a lot. I can redirect the nervous energy into fidgeting with them."

"You haven't been biting since the hunt, have you? Since you can play again."

"Haven't."

"That's really good. I'm glad you have a working and harmless alternative," Brajan said. He did sound genuinely pleased. The light tone didn't last long. "I don't have a better suggestion for what to do about those intrusive thoughts than what Olga said. It probably doesn't sound much, just accepting having one and moving on the best you can, but it does work for her. You said it yourself, they aren't things you want to do. You have the choice not to follow through with them."

"But what if I do on impulse?" Jaskier murmured worriedly, finally lowering his hands from his face.

"Then you get help the second you can. Or if someone is with you already, you'll accept their help," Brajan commanded before softening his tone. "You're not alone, Jaskier."

"Thank you, Brajan. Again," Jaskier sighed, feeling slightly better.

Geralt had been ready to leave for a long time before Jaskier entered their room.

Red eyed from crying and pale faced Jaskier walked straight to him and opened his arms. "Geralt, can I have a hug?"

There was far more than that Geralt was willing to give. "Of course."

Jaskier's breaths were unsteady and the grip around his shoulders bordered on desperate. Geralt couldn't help but wonder what Jaskier had talked about with Olga but since it clearly wasn't something the bard wanted him to know he'd refrain from asking. He could do that. Jaskier would tell eventually if he wanted to. So all Geralt did was to hug him back gently and try to soothe the upset away. It took a while for Jaskier to relax his hold and step away.

"Thanks," the bard murmured, taking a few deep breaths. "I'm ready to go now. Sorry about the delay."

"Jaskier, we don't have a schedule. We're just going to wander around for a bit before setting camp," Geralt reminded him, not wanting to hear any more apologies.

"Yes, right. Thanks for packing," Jaskier agreed, hoisting his lute case over his shoulder and grabbing a saddlebag.

This time they didn't stop by the counter to return their keys. Zofia had made it clear their room would be waiting for them tomorrow when they had mentioned going to spend the night camping. Geralt idly wondered if he should be worried about not being surprised by such things anymore.

It didn't take long to get Roach ready and start heading out of the town, Geralt making sure Jaskier was walking safely between him and the mare. Out of the reach of other people.

"Everything okay?" Geralt asked, worried about the way Jaskier was looking pensive as he walked silently.

"Hmmm? Oh, yeah. Just thinking," Jaskier said, lifting his eyes up from the ground to look at him.

Alert and talking. Good.

"About the conversation?"

"Yep. Wasn't a light one," Jaskier nodded. "But I think it did good. I just need to… internalize? Make sense of? Make myself believe? some things."

"Hmmm," that was a very acceptable reason for the bard to stay silent.

Geralt let him be until they reached a particular crossroad on the forest path they were. "Want to go swimming?"

"No."

What the hell?

"Okay."

That wasn't at all what he had expected. Jaskier had so far practically jumped in joy at any chance to get into water. What the fuck was wrong? Geralt didn't believe for a second Jaskier was suddenly feeling comfortable in his own skin.

"How about a break?" Geralt asked, trying to sound casual.

"I'm fine for now."

"We're just wandering around. No need to push yourself," he reminded. "Nowhere to be."

"I know. I really am alright, Geralt," Jaskier said, a half smile on his lips.

"Hmmm."

No, Jaskier was not alright. Slowly getting there but not yet. And whatever was causing this unwillingness to go swimming didn't feel right. Seeing Jaskier in deep water might still be fucking disturbing but Geralt was determined to just bear it. Each time had had a positive effect on Jaskier's mood and that was more than worth the cold and tight feeling in his chest each time the bard dived.

"Here," if Jaskier wasn't going to do anything else then he better accept the handful of nuts Geralt dug out from a pouch in his pocket.

"Geralt, seriously?" Jaskier said in a long-suffering tone.

"Yes. Eat."

"Fine," Jaskier huffed, letting Geralt deposit the nuts onto his palm and started to nibble on them.

That was better. Jaskier needed to eat as much as possible now that he was finally able to do so to start regaining some weight. And Geralt was determined to make sure that'd happen. If it meant acting a bit overbearing then so be it. Jaskier needed someone to do that.

It took maybe a half an hour before Jaskier stopped walking. "Can we take that break now?"

"Of course," Geralt felt like complementing the bard for letting him know that he was getting tired.

He didn't.

It'd be mortifying for both of them.

"Kaer Morhen, huh…" Jaskier said after they had sat in silence for a while.

"Yes."

"The Wolves' keep, your home. I've been curious about it ever since meeting you," Jaskier continued, stealing glances at Geralt. "Do you seriously want to introduce me to that part of your life?"

"I do," I want you to be part of all aspects of my life.

_Every single one._

"But the others-"

"Will welcome you," Geralt cut him off. "Jaskier, stop thinking about anyone else for a moment. What do _you_ want?"

"...To go with you," Jaskier admitted quietly. "I don't want to part ways when winter comes around. I don't say that because of my current condition but because I love you dearly, Geralt. My heart aches at the mere thought of being away from you. It's a familiar hurt, one that creeped upon me each winter when I knew we'd be parted for months."

There the bard went again. Saying such things.

"Then come," Geralt said, feeling like nothing could be enough to show the depth of the meaning behind his offer.

"I will."

Those two words meant the world to Geralt.

It was several hours and more than a few breaks later that they settled down to make camp. Still rather close to the town but far enough to avoid anyone enjoying a casual stroll in the woods or hunting game near home. Neither of them wanted to have strangers stumble upon their camp.

"Geralt, could I touch you?" Jaskier asked, putting down his lute that he had been idly plucking. "The same way than last time. Although, hopefully in an improved version."

Stopping cleaning a silver chain, Geralt turned to study him. "I'm fine with it if you're sure."

"I am. You do like it, right? Aren't doing it just to humor me?" Jaskier checked, shuffling closer on his knees.

Geralt's softening expression and the nod he gave was an answer enough.

"Kisses and touches coming your way then," Jaskier said teasingly, holding his hand out for Geralt to give him his.

Which the Witcher did after wrapping the chain into an oilskin to make sure his work wouldn't be undone as he placed it on the ground.

"Geralt, tell me the second I ask to do something you don't want," Jaskier demanded, holding Geralt's hand.

"I will. My blanket permission to touch me whichever way and whenever you want is also still in effect," Geralt informed him. The repetition of his consent was relieving.

"I'd like to kiss your hand," Jaskier said with a small smile, lifting their joined hands closer to his lips. At Geralt's agreement he pressed a brief kiss onto the Witcher's knuckles.

Slowly running his hands along Geralt's arms and leaving occasional little kisses onto his hands was easier than last time, his pulse not quickening more than expected. It felt fantastic not having anxiety about doing this.

Taking his hands back to himself Jaskier looked at Geralt contemplatively. "Geralt, would you be alright with me touching your shoulders? Maybe face or back too depending on how I feel?"

"Sounds good to me," Geralt confirmed. "Do you want to continue now or take a break?"

"Break. I don't want to try to do too much at once," Jaskier said promptly before shooting a grin at the Witcher. "See? I'm finally getting the hang of that!"

Geralt gave him a warm half smile at the declaration before getting up and walking to the saddlebag holding their provisions. "Try to get the hang of eating too."

"Working on it," Jaskier huffed. "And making progress."

"I know," Geralt agreed, bringing them water and cram. "I'm glad for it."

"You are?" Jaskier couldn't help but ask, Geralt's words kindling warmth in his chest.

"Yes."

Jaskier took a moment to just be, to let himself relax again, after finishing eating before deciding he was ready to continue. "Geralt, is it still okay for me to touch you?"

"Always," Geralt said, shifting into a better position.

Taking a deep breath Jaskier hovered his hands over Geralt's shoulders for a moment before cautiously letting them rest against the Witcher. Geralt's face didn't show any negative reactions, not even a twitch.

"Alright?" Geralt asked, keeping eye contact. Probably observing him in turn.

"Yeah."

It was the truth.

For a while Jaskier ran his hands along the wide shoulders, feeling the strong muscles even without using much pressure at all.

Not wanting to stop looking in the beautiful golden eyes, Jaskier stilled his hands. "Could I touch your face and give kisses?"

"Yes," Geralt said earnestly.

Bolstered by the permission Jaskier gently cradled Geralt's face with both hands and gave a peck on the tip of his nose, fighting a smile. Startled by the action Geralt gave an actual guffaw of laughter, although a very short-lived one.

Whoever had decided that Witchers didn't have emotions was full of shit.

"Love you," Jaskier whispered before kissing Geralt's forehead. Kisses to both cheeks were accompanied with the same declaration.

As Jaskier leaned slightly away to be able to see Geralt properly, he saw Geralt looking back at him with love openly on his face, walls down. Absolutely gorgeous.

"May I kiss you on the lips?" Jaskier asked, voice barely more than a breath.

"Yes," Geralt said just as quietly, lips parting slightly.

Brushing Geralt's cheek with his thumb once, Jaskier leaned in for a soft and slow kiss. It took Geralt couple of seconds to get the hint and kiss him back.

"Hug me," Jaskier murmured as they separated for air.

"You…?" Geralt blinked in surprise.

"Please."

Feeling Geralt slowly and gently wind his arms around him, Jaskier melted into another tender kiss. It was far too soon when he moved away, Geralt releasing him immediately.

"Are you alright?" Geralt checked almost as soon as the kiss ended.

The Witcher was far too sweet.

"Yeah, I am," Jaskier nodded, pressing his trembling hands against the grass. "But I probably won't be touching you again for a while."

"That's absolutely fine. Hugging you wasn't too much?" Geralt asked with a slight but worried frown.

"No, it felt lovely," Jaskier shook his head. "Safe. I know I keep saying this but thank you for taking this so terribly slow for my sake. Glacial doesn't cover it."

"Jaskier, all I want is for you to feel good. If it means taking things this slowly I'm perfectly fine with it. Even if things slow down more or we'll never move further than this. Nothing I feel towards you would change," Geralt said resolutely, gaze intense.

"You're far too good for me. Stop being so fantastic," Jaskier commanded before turning serious. "I feel safe with you because I know you won't push me. Won't expect anything we do lead to sex. There's no strings attached, nothing to be on guard against. I'm not happy about being unable to give that to you but I'm beyond grateful you don't seem to mind even when I know you desire more."

Seeing Geralt open his mouth and guessing what the Witcher was about to say, Jaskier simply continued. "I know I said just yesterday that I have currently almost nonexistent sex drive but I do sincerely love being close to you. Hugs warm me to my core. Kissing you is amazing, each time almost like a revelation. And knowing you won't demand more makes all that possible. I do hope you can start asking for anything you want from me in the future but I'm not there yet. I wish I was."

"Jaskier…"

"I know. I know. I'm just trying to say that I treasure each moment of closeness we share. It's just my self-preservation instincts and fucked up brain having trouble accepting things to be absolutely safe, that there's nothing to fear. Even when I'm rationally perfectly aware of it."

Geralt's face was again showing the familiar displeasure at the wording. But it had been just the truth.

"I don't know what else to say to make you accept that I'm not fucking yearning for something else," Geralt grumbled.

Jaskier was pretty sure nothing Geralt could say or do would be able to make the niggling feeling of not being enough disappear. Not the Witcher's fault. He just was too self-aware of everything he lacked and couldn't give. So Jaskier settled on the truth as he stood up. "You don't have to say anything, Geralt. The fact that you've tried truly means the world to me."

"Is it okay if I rest until dinner?" he asked, already walking towards his bedroll to spread it out as he could feel his energy draining out rapidly. "Although, if there's anything you want help with let me know. I'll be happy to do it."

"Just rest. I'm fine with taking care of everything," Geralt said, tone back to neutral.

"Thanks," Jaskier sighed, relief and guilt fighting for dominance. It felt ridiculously good to lay down and getting up anytime soon didn't sound enticing in the least. His limbs were starting to resemble lead more than anything.

"I'll rouse you when it's time to eat," Geralt promised, going back to cleaning the silver chain.

Geralt hadn't had time to finish when Jaskier's breathing evened out into the familiar rhythm of sleep. The bard really needed that rest, he had been far more active today than in a long time. It was great to see Jaskier getting his strength back bit by bit and starting to act more and more like himself. Finally eating definitely had to help with his energy levels. Hopefully Jaskier would also be able to keep it up.

Finishing with the cleaning, Geralt got up to put the chain away and check on Roach. The mare was happily grazing and slowly wandering around as much as the lead and picket line allowed her to.

"Enjoying yourself?" Geralt asked quietly, careful not to talk loud enough to disturb Jaskier's sleep. "Sorry about how much you've been staying inside. It's been unavoidable. But we'll set out again eventually, get back to traveling so try to be patient."

Roach stopped eating in favor of headbutting Geralt's chest, giving a soft huff.

"I know. It'll be nice. I miss it too."

Scratching her forehead, Geralt continued. "Jaskier just needs a little more time. Be around other people he trusts to help with his social anxiety. Can't work on that in the wilderness."

"But you heard him, he's coming to Kaer Morhen with us. We need to reserve much more time for traveling than usual and I want to get there early too if possible. Should actually check if Jaskier needs to stop at Oxenfurt or something before wintering. I don't want to overestimate how fast we'll be able to travel, especially when it'll definitely vary from day to day."

"You agree, don't you, Roach?"

Another headbutt and an attempt to nibble at his hair was Roach's answer.

"Don't eat my hair," Geralt scolded, pushing her muzzle away. "Save it for Lambert. You can graze him bald if you want to. Might be an improvement."

"Well, it's time for me to start making dinner. Go back to eating grass," Geralt said, giving final pats before going to build a fire and get the ingredients out of the saddlebag holding them.

It was wonderfully uneventful, silence feeling natural with the way Jaskier was sleeping instead of simply not speaking. Just the sounds of nature around him creating a peaceful atmosphere, letting him relax. No constant sound of multiple people living their lives or too many warring smells making his nose itch. No reason to try blocking things out.

In contrast the mostly silent dinner and the couple of hours after it felt wrong. As Geralt laid down for the night, he could only hope the night would stay quiet.

He got his wish until the sun started to rise, the light and distressed tell-tale sounds of a nightmare waking him up. Turning immediately to look at Jaskier, he saw the bard had curled up, expression fearful.

"Jaskier, wake up. You're having a nightmare," Geralt said softly, trying to coax the bard into waking up without panicking. "You're safe. Just open your eyes and look around. It's just a dream."

It felt like an eternity before Jaskier finally jolted awake, scrambling up and away from him.

"Jaskier?"

"H-hi, Geralt. Wha-what's…?" Jaskier asked, turning frantically around as if trying to spot some threat.

"A nightmare. Do you know where you are?" Geralt asked evenly, far too used to the reaction.

"Yeah, camping. Near the town," Jaskier answered nervously, eyes still flitting around even when he had otherwise stilled.

"Do you want to tell me about the dream?" Geralt offered, hoping the bard would keep talking.

He wasn't that lucky. Jaskier simply shook his head and settled back down onto his bedroll, burying himself underneath the blanket until almost nothing was showing.

The eventual breakfast wasn't much noisier either.

"Can we go to the lake?" Jaskier asked, finally finding the will to interact as they were packing up the camp.

The thought of getting into the water didn't feel like a horrible idea anymore. Jaskier was almost completely convinced he wouldn't end up doing anything stupid on impulse as he wasn't continuously going over the conversation with Olga and Brajan anymore. Not overthinking and overanalyzing, not second guessing whether his intrusive thoughts were fears or desires.

Definitely not desires. Definitely frightening.

Note and let go. Maybe he'd learn to do that eventually. Accept that they were nothing more than fucked up thoughts without basis in reality.

There was a quickly suppressed flash of relief on Geralt's face as the Witcher answered. "Sure."

Weird reaction.

"Thanks. Wasn't in the mood for it yesterday but I'd really like to bathe now. Or just float. Both," Jaskier said, securing his lute case on Roach's tack. Not the lightest thing to carry around but the mare was gracious enough to bear the weight for him.

"Hmmm."

They hadn't walked for long when Geralt unexpectedly broke the silence around them. "Do you have things you need to take care of before we go to Kaer Morhen? In Oxenfurt or something?"

"I… don't know…?" Jaskier said hesitantly, not sure what would be the right answer.

"Think then," Geralt stated nonplussed. "I need to know so I can plan our route."

Right.

It'd be a long trek to the keep, made even longer with his terrible stamina. Geralt really did need to know as soon as possible. The thought that they'd need to leave the inn soon was anxiety inducing. Everything would again be unfamiliar after that. Kaer Morhen itself would -should- be safe but it was far away, many miles and days, unknown people and towns aplenty before reaching it.

"There was talk this spring before I left Oxenfurt that I'd return to teach at the university for the winter. No contracts signed or anything like that. Sending a letter of _No thanks, not this time_ would probably do it but…" Jaskier trailed off.

"But?" Geralt prompted.

"I don't know. Guess I'm just worried about burning professional bridges in general, being the dysfunctional mess I am," Jaskier muttered, keeping his eyes averted.

"Stop talking about yourself like that," Geralt growled, frustration clear in his tone.

Why the Witcher wanted to sugarcoat it Jaskier didn't know. Usually Geralt had no problems addressing things as they were. Maybe it was all the new emotions Geralt had to be mulling over. Love being blind and all that.

"What do you want to do? Go, send a letter?" Geralt asked when he didn't immediately say anything.

"...I'm not sure…" why the fuck did making decisions be so hard. Especially about something big like this. "Besides, you probably want to go straight to Kaer Morhen anyway, right?"

Maybe Geralt would decide for him. Then he wouldn't accidentally choose the wrong option and make the Witcher angry.

"Don't think about me. What do _you_ want?" it wasn't exactly a demand but not far from it.

"I don't know. I don't know. I don't," Jaskier mumbled, shaking his head. "I don't know."

He didn't.

He didn't want to break things.

"Jaskier, calm down. Take a deep breath. You're starting to get stuck in a loop," Geralt's voice cut in, disrupting the suddenly swirling uncertainty. "In and out."

It took Jaskier a few tries before he managed to do as instructed, breaths coming easy again. As the slight tingle in his fingers receded, he became aware of clutching Roach's mane in a death grip and having pressed himself against her neck.

A total overreaction. His new forte.

"Uhhh… Sorry about that," Jaskier said, untangling himself from the mare and started to walk again.

"Don't. Apologize," Geralt grunted. After a few seconds he continued. "Jaskier, you know there's no wrong answer, right?"

"Mmhmm," didn't feel like it.

"There's not. But you don't have to have one right now. Let me know once you've decided," Geralt assured him, voice and demeanor calm again.

"...Thanks," not having to make the decision this instant helped. "I'll think about it."

Later.

When he didn't feel like any wrong word or choice from him would bring everything crumbling down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The time at the inn is starting to come to an end...
> 
> (Btw, neither Jaskier or Olga have ocd so intrusive thoughts aren't really accompanied by compulsions.)


	82. Chapter 82

It was calming to be in the lake, letting the water wash him clean. Lift filth both from his skin and soul. Make things a little lighter. Little easier to bear. Jaskier felt like there wasn't anything else he wanted from life except to continue floating on his back, breathing slowly and watching the clouds move across the sky. Maybe become one with the water, get completely rid of the body that wasn't his anymore.

It was peaceful like this.

But staying in the lake indefinitely wasn't an option.

Taking a deep breath Jaskier dived, hoping to take the sensation of weightlessness with him when he'd get out. He should do so soon. Geralt was surely starting to be at the end of his patience, still watching over every move he made in the water. It… was almost relieving, knowing the Witcher was keeping an eye on him, unknowingly keeping any impulses from taking shape. Making it feel safe to be in the water.

Jaskier waited until his lungs were burning with the need to breathe before he resurfaced and started to move towards the shore. It was time to return to reality. Face the problems that disguised themselves as his life.

"You done?" Geralt asked as Jaskier waded out of the lake.

"Yeah. Feeling better too," Jaskier said, grabbing dry clothes and a towel before retreating to change. It was the truth. It was as if the nightmare and the brief moment of spiraling had been shed and left behind in the water. Almost like a fresh start to the day.

As Jaskier was starting to button his doublet, his fingers stilled just before touching them. Biting his lip he looked around, knowing very well that nothing had changed, that there wasn't anyone else apart from them. Deciding to leave a couple of inches, practically only the collar, unbuttoned shouldn't be this hard. Walking around with a completely open doublet hadn't been any sort of a problem before Alisa's well-intentioned but disastrous attempt to flirt with him. And that had been weeks ago; it shouldn't still be affecting so strongly how he dressed. Besides, there was just Geralt and Roach here with him and neither would care about his clothing. It wasn't as if showing his throat was a big deal.

At least it shouldn't be.

As Jaskier returned to Geralt's side, the Witcher did take a casual glance at the open collar but didn't react otherwise.

Like he had known.

"Geralt, could you touch me? Run your hands along my arms? Physical contact has become easier since last time we tried," Jaskier asked.

"Jaskier…"

"We can take it really slow. And I've gotten slightly better at recognizing signs of things getting too much," he continued, holding steady eye contact and hoping Geralt wouldn't refuse on the basis of his previous reaction

After a long pause Geralt nodded. "Alright, we can test it. But I'm going to stop the moment you start to show signs of being uncomfortable. No matter how soon it is."

"Thank you, Geralt," Jaskier said, moving to sit in front of the Witcher and presenting his right arm. "You can touch me now."

With carefully coordinated movements Geralt took his hand, stopping to massage it for a little while before moving up to his wrist after getting permission.

"Forearm?" Geralt asked the same way as last time.

"Yes."

It didn't feel like a particularly daunting idea.

Jaskier couldn't help the way he tracked each little movement Geralt made but otherwise it wasn't that bad. There was a kernel of fear in his chest but it stayed there, not spreading, not blooming.

This was okay.

"Can I continue to your upper arm?" Geralt asked, clearly focused on him and his reactions.

"Break first," Jaskier decided and Geralt immediately lifted his hands off him.

"This is going way better than last attempt," Jaskier quipped before sobering. "Geralt, go really slow next. I can't remember if I've already mentioned this but the first spot Marden touched after getting aggressive was my left bicep. Kept me in place by holding it. You're not touching the same arm but just a warning."

"Thanks for telling me. I'll be careful," Geralt said almost gently.

"I know you will," Jaskier agreed with a small smile. "It's okay now, we can continue."

"You sure?" Geralt checked, hovering his hand over Jaskier's elbow.

"Yes," he really was.

It still was impossible to tear his eyes off the hand currently just resting lightly on his arm. Keeping breathing steady wasn't too hard. Jaskier knew Geralt could hear the way his heart was kicking up a notch but not reaching a crescendo.

"I'm fine," Jaskier said, prompting Geralt to move.

Geralt was as good as his word, going slowly and even stopping completely once in a while. Just before he would have reached Jaskier's shoulder he moved his hand away, watching Jaskier's face keenly.

"Everything alright?" Geralt asked, barely blinking.

"Yeah. I- I think I really am okay," Jaskier answered, more than half surprised. "But let's not continue on to my other arm yet if it's fine with you."

"Of course it's fine," Geralt huffed. "We'll go your pace."

"Your idea of letting me get used to touching you first seems to really be working. I don't feel threatened. Nervous and a bit anxious yes, properly afraid? No," Jaskier marveled. "It's… It didn't feel normal, not yet, but I can imagine that it might one day."

"That's good. Really good," Geralt said emphatically. "You are doing great."

"Thanks, I guess," it felt incredibly silly to be praised for this. But… His reaction _had_ been far, far, better this time. Maybe it was okay to accept the words.

Maybe.

Jaskier took a little while longer before reaching out to Geralt with his left arm. "Let's continue."

"Hmmm," Geralt's touch was still just as gentle as he paid attention to his palm before continuing higher after a confirmation.

"I'm not sure if I'm ready for being touched where I was restrained from," Jaskier said hesitantly as Geralt reached his elbow. The thought of a hand against that spot on his arm sent unpleasant shivers down his spine. He could almost feel the bruising grip.

"Then I won't go higher," Geralt agreed easily.

"I mean… You can. I can probably handle it," Jaskier amended. "There's worse things."

"No. Not sure means no, Jaskier. At least with this," Geralt said immediately, tone booking no arguments. "I won't touch you unless you're sure, unless you know you want it."

"...Thanks…"

"You can always say no. Always," Geralt declared heatedly.

"So you keep saying," Jaskier nodded, strangely uncomfortable.

Geralt inhaled sharply, air hissing through his teeth. "So I…!"

Getting up, Geralt marched a few steps away from Jaskier and turned his back to him. All of the Witcher seemed to be radiating anger, making a cold feeling wash over Jaskier.

"Geralt….?"

"No. Don't talk. I don't want to shout at you," Geralt grunted, voice strained.

Shit, shit, shit. Geralt was furious.

Jaskier clutched his beads tightly with his right hand and dug the fingers of his other one as deep in the soil as he could. He had said something wrong. Should have just agreed without alluding to his doubts regarding the issue. Just gone along and not protested, not even mildly.

He'd do that the next time.

Since Geralt didn't want him to speak, Jaskier focused on breathing as steadily as he could, trying to keep his heart from racing and the coldness inside him from spreading. It'd be bad if he got a panic attack. He knew Geralt would be by his side in a flash but that'd surely make the Witcher even angrier afterwards. He could do this, could keep himself together even if he was just about to start crying.

He had messed up.

Again.

Kept doing it.

Bloody brilliant, now the tears were falling despite his best efforts.

At least the shallow breaths were still under control.

Sort of.

"Jaskier, calm down. Things are alright," Geralt said, coming to kneel in front of him.

No, no, no. Geralt wasn't supposed to be comforting him. He felt like a fucking manipulative bastard, forcing Geralt to abandon his own reactions and feelings to help him. Not letting Geralt process his own thoughts. Jaskier wanted to stand up and walk away from the Witcher to stop bothering him but he wasn't sure if his legs would agree to it. He wanted to tell Geralt not to mind him but he had been ordered not to speak. Geralt would only be more upset with him if he did so.

He didn't want that.

So he'd stay silent.

Not disappoint Geralt even more.

"You're okay. Just take a deep breath," Geralt coaxed, tone suddenly patient. "I'm not leaving you if you're worried about that. Just needed a moment."

Jaskier shook his head. That wasn't it. At all. If anything Geralt probably should do it but he knew that the Witcher wouldn't for some god forsaken reason.

"Everything is okay."

It wasn't.

But disagreeing had caused this in the first place so Jaskier gave as convincing a nod as he could.

"Good. Can you take a deep breath?"

It turned into a shuddering and forced one but Jaskier managed to fill his lungs with air all the way this time and hold it for a second before repeating the action. The third time resulted in a steadier inhale.

Tears were starting to slow down too.

Jaskier dearly wished he could bury himself into a deep, deep, hole right this instant and never come out. Maybe cover himself with dirt for good measure.

"Alright?" Geralt asked as Jaskier finally got his reaction under control again.

A nod.

Geralt's frown didn't lighten up.

"Jaskier, I'm not angry at you. Not really," Geralt continued, trying to catch his eye. "Just frustrated at things."

Not wanting to shake things up Jaskier nodded again and lifted his head to face the Witcher. It was the least he could do to start mitigating his mistake.

"Do you want to stay here? Wander around? Get back to the inn?" Geralt asked when he didn't say anything.

Jaskier could only shrug. He honestly had no idea. And this way he wouldn't make the wrong choice, choose something Geralt didn't like. Better to let the Witcher decide what they'd do next. It wasn't as if he had a preference anyway.

Silence didn't seem to be the way to go after all as Geralt ground his teeth together in irritation before managing to relax.

There didn't seem to be any right answers.

Jaskier wasn't sure why Geralt was suddenly doing this.

Once again. Once fucking again he had made Jaskier cry. And this time he even had seriously tried to rein himself in the moment he had realized being on the brink of taking his frustration out on the bard.

Clearly he hadn't done a good job.

It was a cold comfort that Jaskier hadn't slipped straight into a panic attack.

"Jaskier, what do you want to do?" Geralt tried again, fighting to keep his voice calm.

The bard only closed his eyes briefly and shrugged, words apparently escaping him.

"Does returning to the inn sound good?" it'd be the best option, getting Jaskier back to a place he considered safe. The bard could unwind there, rest knowing that there were no threats, nothing to guard against. It'd probably be a bitch and a half at first once they traveled on, wrenching that safety net away from Jaskier. Inevitable but definitely not something to look forward to.

Jaskier simply nodded and got onto his feet.

"Get on Roach," Geralt said once they were ready to leave, holding the reins. Easier to keep an eye on Jaskier. And right now he didn't want to miss any changes in his behavior. It was hard to know if he should be pleased or not with the way Jaskier didn't protest and simply mounted the mare without hesitation.

The trip to the inn was spent in silence, Jaskier answering only with vague gestures whenever Geralt tried to engage him. Jaskier not verbally greeting anyone as they made their way to their room made Geralt want to shake the bard and force words out of him.

"Jaskier, talk to me," Geralt demanded, taking his armor off.

"Okay," Jaskier said simply.

_Okay?_

Was outright asking Jaskier to use his words all it would have taken to get him respond? Why did-?

Oh.

Oh fuck.

Jaskier had taken his request for silence as an actual command. One that he hadn't broken even when he had been encouraged to do so.

Fucking great.

"What the hell, Jaskier? I didn't mean you had to completely stop speaking," Geralt said incredulously.

"Wasn't sure," Jaskier muttered, averting his eyes.

"Me asking you questions wasn't enough to clue you in?" Geralt asked, unable to keep all the bite away from his tone. The worry was starting to turn into irritation.

"Wasn't sure," Jaskier repeated, voice quieter.

"My word isn't the fucking law, Jaskier. Think for yourself," that could have come out kinder.

Much kinder since Jaskier flinched at the words.

"I'm not your keeper or minder or whatever. I don't hold power over you, can't order you around. Nor do I want to."

"Mmhmm."

Not those fucking hums again.

"Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"Do you really?" Geralt pressed.

"I do," Jaskier said calmly, looking him straight in the eye.

Geralt had no fucking idea whether or not Jaskier was telling the truth. Hopefully he was. It'd make everyone's lives much easier.

"Good."

It took a while before either of them moved but eventually Jaskier bent down to tug his shoes off. That accomplished, the bard got on the bed, buried himself under the covers and curled up with a heavy sigh.

"Do you need anything?" Geralt checked, wanting to make sure Jaskier would be comfortable. He'd be damned if he left the bard missing something just because they had had a misunderstanding.

"No," Jaskier mumbled into the pillow. "Thank you."

"Hmmm. Want me to join you?"

"Sure."

That at least seemed to be true since Jaskier didn't tense up when Geralt settled down next to him on the bed. He really wanted to keep asking Jaskier what the hell had gone wrong but the bard probably wouldn't be able to handle the discussion. There was already a slightly wet quality in Jaskier's breathing and a hint of salt in the air. Trying to probe for answers would only make everything worse. And things had been going pretty well lately too. Maybe he should have expected it not to last. Should have known better. He did know better.

It just was easy to forget.

Get lost in the warmth that came with seeing Jaskier doing good.

Geralt was seized by an urge to scoop Jaskier into his arms, to try to keep him safe from everything and everyone. But the bard wasn't making any moves to get closer or showing signs of wanting to be touched so Geralt closed his eyes and tried to meditate. It was only after Jaskier's silent tears had dried and changed into the steady breathing of sleep that he managed to reach the needed calmness.

"Jaskier, get up. Let's go eat," Geralt said eventually, getting off the bed to put his boots on.

"...You go…" Jaskier mumbled, not moving an inch.

"You can rest more afterwards," Geralt pointed out. "Now up."

Jaskier just buried himself deeper underneath the covers. "...Not hungry."

Not fucking again.

"You will eat," ....that definitely slipped out as an order. It also appeared to work as Jaskier got up, each movement looking agonizingly heavy. If Geralt didn't know better, he would have accused the bard of acting.

"We're just going downstairs," Geralt said, hoping it'd work as encouragement.

"...Yeah…"

Apparently it didn't.

But Jaskier did follow him to the tavern so there was that at least.

"Did you have fun camping?" Hanna asked as they stopped in front of the counter.

"Hmmm," Geralt hummed, watching Jaskier nod silently.

"That's good," Hanna sounded a bit more subdued after their noncommittal answers. "Can I do something for you?"

"Food. Please," Jaskier said quietly after an awkward pause just as Geralt was about to order.

"Of course. Uh, is everything alright?" there was a concerned frown knitting itself together on Hanna's brow.

"Yes," Geralt said reflexively even as he knew she wouldn't believe him. Not with the way Jaskier was acting.

"...That's good. Hey, Jaskier, are you going to perform tonight?" Hanna inquired, worry coloring her tone.

That was a good question.

There was another pause in conversation before Jaskier answered. "...I'd like to."

"You can play whenever you want," Hanna informed him. "I'll get food sent to you in a minute too."

"Thanks," Jaskier said, still not speaking any louder, and followed Geralt to their regular table.

It probably was a good sign Jaskier had enough interest and energy to want to perform like usual. At the same time Geralt couldn't silence the part of himself that wanted to wrap Jaskier up in a blanket and hold him until the low mood passed the bard again. It was frankly a ridiculous impulse. Didn't stop the wishing.

Especially when their food came and Jaskier kept pushing it around instead of eating.

Eventually Geralt had to admit defeat and resign himself to the fact that Jaskier simply wouldn't be able to finish even half of the portion. The bard did try. There wasn't really anything else to do about it. Hopefully he'd manage to stomach more at the dinner. There was no way Geralt was going to let the situation worsen again but Jaskier did genuinely look like he'd be sick if he ate more so with a sigh Geralt stood up and led him back to their room.

Without a word Jaskier returned to the bed, not sparing him a glance. Soon enough the bard was nothing more than a mound of blankets and faint clacking of beads.

It was starting to get unbearably hot under all the blankets. The weight of them was worth the discomfort, grounding him to his body. It and the beads were helping. Letting him slowly calm down, to try work through the swirling emotions that were far too close to spilling over. Wouldn't take much for that to happen. But each quiet moment made things easier, pushed the feelings closer to the manageable levels.

Eating had helped.

Thank the gods Geralt was one stubborn Witcher.

Jaskier pulled one of the blankets tighter around himself, wanting to feel the pressure of it. Being held would work better but he wasn't sure how good of an idea it'd be. This was the safer option without unforeseen consequences, although not a very good substitute when he knew Geralt was nearby and willing to hug him. Fuck his brain for not allowing him to ask for the comfort he yearned for.

Fuck it also for not letting him fall asleep again.

It wasn't as if he had the drive to do anything. He might just as well be sleeping his life away as laying on his side, eyes closed and slowly fidgeting with his beads.

Maybe he should just get up, grab his lute, and go downstairs. It might have been five minutes since he buried himself under the blanket mountain or it could have been hours. Didn't really matter either way.

Jaskier didn't move.

Just curled up tighter, gripping the blanket with more force.

"You awake?" Geralt's voice startled him after… Jaskier didn't know how long. His sense of time was still on a vacation.

"Regrettably," Jaskier muttered.

"Still planning on performing?" Geralt asked in a carefully neutral tone.

Ah. Hours then.

"Yes. Is it getting late?" Jaskier replied, wrenching his eyes open. The room had gotten considerably darker since the last time he had looked around.

"Hmmm."

It took some work to get out of the cocoon Jaskier had built around himself but once he managed it the room's temperature felt delightfully cool against his overheated skin. And apparently all the sleep had been concentrated in his right leg since he could barely step on it as blood started to properly flow again.

Jaskier limped to his lute case, took the instrument out and checked his clothes were looking proper before facing Geralt. "Shall we?"

Jaskier felt like he was in a strange three-way stare down with his plate and Geralt; He could feel the Witcher's eyes burning into him while he couldn't lift his own gaze from the remaining food in front of him, the half-full plate mocking them both. With a frustrated sound Jaskier tried to take another bite only to find himself unable to swallow, the taste and texture suddenly revolting. Geralt's unflinching attention didn't make it any easier to get discreetly rid of the disgusting half-chewed piece of pork in his mouth.

At least it did seem to convince Geralt that he physically wasn't able to continue.

Breaking the staring contest with his dinner, Jaskier looked at the Witcher instead and tilted his chin to silently say _"Satisfied?"_

 _"No,"_ Geralt's glower was loud enough, making words unnecessary.

Shame. It would have been nice for at least one of them to be satisfied.

After washing the lingering taste away with water Jaskier stood up and lifted his lute, managing the tiniest smile for Geralt just before walking away.

Three, four… five steps.

A breath.

Six steps.

That'd have to be enough.

Strumming his lute once Jaskier gathered everyone's attention to himself to give his usual introduction, already dreaming about going back to their room and taking a sleeping potion. Even his fantasies had turned into rather sad ones.

Few well-known upbeat songs to set up a jovial mood before changing the pace with a slower one. Bridge the older-than-the-time-itself tavern songs to his own compositions with the _Toss a Coin To Your Witcher_ and flinch at the few coins that always got thrown. Ease the songs towards the more humorous and raunchier ones again as the alcohol levels started rising and hours got later.

Try and fail forcing a flirtatious tone into the singing.

_"-You move like the ocean_   
_Tides pulling and pushing_   
_And I come up for air_   
_Only to ride your waves-"_

"You can ride my waves all night long, pretty thing!"

Jaskier felt like he was punched in the gut, all air leaving his lungs and singing cutting short.

He couldn't remember what he was supposed to be doing.

But he knew he didn't want _that_.

"Why did you stop, songbi-" Whoever was hollering didn't get to finish as an unholy screech interrupted him.

"You sheepfucker! Crawl back into the ditch you came from and die crying covered in shit and vomit like when you were born there!" Anja yelled, running the needed few feets to loom over the man who had been speaking. "Get the hell out of here, fuckface! Now!"

The last word was accompanied by her slamming a tray of drinks on the table, making the tankards fall and spill their beverages on the man's lap.

Jaskier was vaguely disappointed he couldn't enjoy the show.

"Jaskier? Jaskier, look at me."

Oh. Geralt was suddenly standing in front of him.

"You bitch! What the fuck?"

No, no, no, Anja shouldn't be in danger. Trying to sidestep Geralt didn't work. The Witcher kept blocking the way.

"Get the hell out, pig!"

No, no, no, no, now Ella was there too.

"Jaskier, calm down."

He'd calm down if Geralt would turn around and protect the girls instead of focusing on him.

"What the fuck is wrong with this place?"

"Only thing wrong here is you!"

No, no, no, no, no, no, no, Lena was suddenly waiving a tray in the man's face.

"Jaskier. Jaskier. Jaskier!"

"Get the hell away from me you crazy bitches!"

"Who the fuck you calling-!"

_"OUT!"_

Silence.

For a brief moment Jaskier couldn't hear anything but his own labored breathing.

"Girls, stand down. And you. Out!" Brajan shouted, staring at the customer eyes blazing and pointing at the front door. "Now!"

"What the fuck is going on?" the man demanded even as he started to make his slightly swaying way towards the exit.

"Justice!" Anja yelled and would have thrown a tankard at him if Brajan hadn't snatched it away from her at the last second.

Jaskier wasn't sure what was happening anymore, there was too much going on around him. But he needed… He needed to say… Needed to tell the man…

"No. I don't- I don't want to," he knew the barely there whisper didn't reach the man's ears. Wouldn't have even if the tavern had been completely silent. Knew he wouldn't be able to offer more useless protests than that no matter what. But saying it, letting the world know he was unwilling helped. Not that it'd change anything but maybe he'd at least have the right to feel horrible afterwards.

"You don't have to," Geralt's voice startled him. "Let's go."

Go?

"I didn't hit him."

"Obviously. Come on Jaskier, time to leave."

...Oh…

Of course Brajan wouldn't want him to stay after he had caused such a huge scene and gotten his daughters involved, placed them in danger. Didn't matter that he hadn't attacked anyone. If anything, this was worse.

"Jaskier? Where do you think you're going?" Geralt asked, sounding confused.

"Leaving."

That's what the Witcher himself said they should do.

"No, we're not leaving the inn. Fuck. Jaskier, let's go to the kitchen. You clearly need to talk with Brajan," Geralt said, herding him towards it.

Zofia and Hanna were hovering at the threshold of the backroom like they wanted to march into the tavern despite having to watch the stove, looking indignant. Jaskier quickly ducked his head, not wanting to see their ire focus on him.

"Tell Brajan to come to the kitchen and talk with us, okay?" Geralt requested as they walked past them.

Zofia's answer got lost in the blood rushing in Jaskier's ears. But she had to have said something since Geralt continued to usher him in without stopping.

"Jaskier, sit down. Focus. Do you know where you are?" Geralt drew his attention again, gesturing at a chair he pulled out.

"Yeah. Kitchen. Family's," what they were doing there was another question. They, he, should be leaving the premises.

"Good. Jaskier, you're safe. You won't have to do anything you don't want to. Take a deep breath, okay," Geralt continued evenly. "Just focus on me and breathe."

"I'm not having a panic attack," Jaskier mumbled, feeling like he shouldn't be here. He needed to go.

"Let's make it stay that way, hmmm?" Geralt's voice was almost annoyingly calm. "Keep breathing and don't get up."

"...Geralt…"

"But dad! He would have _deserved_ it!" Anja's protests cut in, words clear despite the walls muffling the volume. "I won't let anyone talk to Jaskier like that!"

Jaskier could just about hear Brajan say something but the words themselves were indistinct. A glance at Geralt's face didn't give any hints to their content.

"It's not fair! It's not!"

This was awkward, accidentally overhearing one half of a conversation about himself.

"I know. Doesn't mean I can't do it _now._ "

Had Anja truly no idea how loud she was? Zofia must have told them that they were in the kitchen.

"Well, yeah. Obviously. But Geralt is Geralt."

That made the Witcher's expression twitch. Not that it gave any clue on what Brajan had said.

"I just want him to be okay. Dad, it's…"

The conversation finally quieted down enough for Jaskier not to hear it anymore. A relief. It had felt wrong, like he was crossing some boundary. He didn't want to be the reason for others' worry, didn't want to bear accidental witness to it, and most definitely didn't want to be a cause of an argument. Geralt didn't seem to share his feelings about the issue since the Witcher was clearly listening in on the still ongoing discussion.

"They're finished," Geralt said after a little while, turning to look at the doorway.

"Geralt, Jaskier. Zofia said you wanted to talk with me," Brajan greeted them, stepping into the kitchen mere seconds later.

Before either of them could answer, Anja popped her head in. "Hey, Jaskier. Are you okay?"

"...Yeah…" No.

He should probably ask Anja that considering the girl looked like she had been crying.

"That's good! I'm going to bed now so goodnight. Love you dad, Jaskier, Geralt," Anja announced and quickly dashed away.

…

…That…

"...What the _fuck_...?" Geralt choked out.

Yes. That.

"Welcome to the family?" Brajan offered weakly.

 _"The fuck?"_ Geralt repeated with feeling.

"Anja's very open with her emotions and, well, she truly likes you. We all do," Brajan said with an embarrassed tinge to his voice. Still, his next words were accompanied with steel. "You're welcome to ignore her declaration but don't you dare to make fun of it."

"Of course we won't!" Jaskier exclaimed aghast.

He might be overwhelmed and not exactly sure what was going on anymore but the thought of laughing at Anja was truly inconceivable.

"I know, I know," Brajan agreed. "So, you wanted to talk to me?"

Not knowing the reason, Jaskier turned to look at Geralt.

"Do you want us to leave?" the Witcher asked without preamble.

"No. Why would I?" Brajan appeared bewildered by the question.

"Yes, why would he?" Geralt repeated, locking eyes with Jaskier.

Feeling like he was suddenly shoved into the spotlight, Jaskier hunched slightly into himself. "I… I caused yet another disturbance. I'm sorry. And it placed your daughters in danger too. I'm so sorry, so sorry."

"Jaskier, you did no such things," all hesitancy disappeared from Brajan's voice. "The girls weren't in danger at any point and you didn't do anything wrong. Absolutely nothing."

"But…"

"No. You were just doing your job. It was all on that heckler."

"I should have sang something else. It was a mistake," Jaskier insisted, wanting to make it clear that he knew what went wrong. He'd do better the next time.

If there would be a next time.

Brajan was well within his rights to kick them out.

Geralt gave an aborted growl at the words.

Jaskier's skin was starting to prickle from all the attention aimed at him. From the way his words and reactions were being evaluated. And found lacking. Frustrating at least.

It didn't help when Brajan sighed tiredly and shook his head. "Jaskier, there was nothing wrong with your set. You were doing a great job, keeping everyone entertained. It was that man's own fault, deciding to open his mouth without thinking. And my daughters jumped to your defense because they wanted to do so."

…It was clear the innkeeper hoped he'd agree, see it from his perspective. To be done with this.

"Oh. Okay," Jaskier said quietly, lowering his eyes. He didn't have energy for this. And it really did seem like Brajan still hadn't reached the point where all the fuck-ups would make him kick them out. Quite incredible regardless of what the innkeeper thought about them on a personal level since meddling with his business was another thing.

"-Don't want you to leave," Brajan finished, making Jaskier realize he had missed part of the speech.

"Thank you. Honestly," Jaskier mumbled, guilt and gratefulness warring for dominance. "Sorry to bother you again."

"Jaskier, you're not a bother. Never could be."

So everyone kept telling him.

But it also was something people felt obligated to say to someone who couldn't take care of themselves whether or not they actually felt like that. And fuck if he didn't absolutely despise needing help with even the simplest of things. It felt so _wrong_.

There was suddenly a burning feeling in his eyes so Jaskier stood up abruptly, taking a shuddering breath. "Thank you, Brajan. Is it okay if I go now?"

"Of course it is," the innkeeper said, giving Geralt a meaningful look. "Sleep well, both of you."

"You too," Jaskier wished before leaving, glad that Geralt seemed to pick up on his desperation to get back to their room as the Witcher started to lead him there with haste.

It didn't take many seconds for the tears he had been holding back to start falling once their door clicked shut. It all was finally just getting too much. He was exhausted, physically and mentally. Not having the strength to do anything else, Jaskier went to sit on the edge of the bed and placed his lute to lean against it before letting himself cry.

"Jaskier, it's okay. Everything is fine," Geralt said calmly, coming to kneel in front of him. "You won't have to do anything you don't want to. Besides, that man is definitely not welcome here anymore. And Brajan isn't making us leave, holds no ill-will towards you."

Jaskier could only nod, trying to keep his cries from being overly loud.

"Do you want a hug? Or hold hands?" Geralt offered softly. The Witcher's expression would surely be worried if he'd lift his face away from his palms and look.

"Don't touch me," Jaskier mumbled through his tears and constricted throat, heart aching at denying that simple comfort from Geralt. Maybe he should just try to power through it. He was already crying, Geralt might not even notice his discomfort. Might not connect the change in desperation that would surely happen. It could be worth it.

"I won't," Geralt promised, cutting Jaskier's thoughts short.

Too late now. Geralt wouldn't believe him until he'd be calmer. By gods did he want to be calmer. It suddenly felt like there was a huge backlog of tears that had been waiting for a chance to get out.

So cry he did.

It felt like eons had passed before his sobs had turned into sniffles and tears dried.

"Better?" Geralt asked, offering him water. When the Witcher had moved to get it, Jaskier wasn't sure.

Not really.

"Yeah…"

But the water felt good on his raw throat and soothing a building headache slightly.

"Is it okay if I just go to sleep?" Jaskier murmured, staring at the floor.

"Of course," Geralt agreed and started to move towards the door to give him privacy to change clothes. "Things will feel easier again once you've rested."

It really wasn't a moment too soon when Jaskier downed the sleeping potion and burrowed underneath the covers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier has bad time as the knowledge that one wrong could have lead to Marden hurt/kill either him or Geralt reared its head and came back to haunt him with aftereffects. 
> 
> And Anja has zero cool. 
> 
> BTW, Taking next week off again.


	83. Chapter 83

The morning didn't feel easier despite the blissfully dreamless sleep. If anything, it felt worse. Maybe it was defeatist but Jaskier resigned himself to having to struggle through a bad day as even the thought of opening his eyes felt like an ordeal.

"Morning," Geralt greeted, noticing that he had awakened.

"Mmhmm."

"Jaskier?" there was immediately a worried tone in the Witcher's voice.

"...Morning…" the word felt heavy on Jaskier's tongue.

"What's wrong?"

"...Bad day," Jaskier muttered, not seeing the point of trying to hide it. It'd be impossible anyway.

Geralt gave a small sigh, clearly dismayed by the change in his mood. "Do you feel up to breakfast?"

"...Not downstairs," getting up and going among people felt like an absolutely horrendous idea. "But I can try."

"I'll bring it up then. You'll be fine alone while I do that?" Geralt checked, moving towards the door if the sounds of the footsteps were to be believed. Jaskier still hadn't found the will to open his eyes.

Just how terrible did he sound and look to warrant that kind of a reaction from the Witcher? No challenging or probing, only worry and agreement.

"I'll be fine," not going to move even an inch.

"I won't take long," Geralt promised right before leaving.

And was completely honest with it as it felt like no time at all had passed when the Witcher returned. Jaskier wondered if he had dozed off or simply lost the time. Hopefully dozed. The other option was deeply worrying even to him. With a body that resembled lead more than flesh and bone Jaskier struggled to sit up. He immediately wanted to lay back down, not lean against the headboard and reach out to take a tray from Geralt.

"It's for eating," Geralt said as Jaskier kept only staring at the bowl of porridge in front of him.

"I know."

The spoon weighted more than his lute case and the porridge tasted and felt like sand. It had turned cold long before Jaskier managed to finish it. The tea Geralt had brought him was slightly more pleasant even though it was overly sweet with the generous helping of honey that had been added to it. At least it tasted like something.

Finally done with the breakfast, Jaskier moved the tray to the nightstand and curled back down on the mattress.

"Jaskier, can I join you?" Geralt asked, voice quiet as if the Witcher was afraid of startling him.

"...Please don't…" Jaskier whispered, tears welling up suddenly when he realized that the idea of even Geralt sharing the bed with him was bordering on terrifying. "...I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Geralt. So sorry."

"Jaskier, it's fine. It's fine. I don't mind," Geralt said quickly, interrupting his looping apologies. "I won't come to bed unless you're comfortable with it."

There was no way Geralt didn't mind being suddenly pushed away.

"...I'm so sorry… I don't know- I don't know what's wrong," Jaskier mumbled, breaths hitching with the effort to keep the tears at bay.

"Bad day, you said it yourself, Jaskier. It's okay that these happen," Geralt assured him, voice steady and calm.

The Witcher truly had managed to achieve amazing improvements to his patience. And the effort had been made for his sake. It was enough to break the fragile hold Jaskier had on his tears. There was no way in hell he was worth all that work.

"Is there anything I can do?" Geralt asked, sounding so sincere.

Jaskier could only shake his head, too busy trying to keep his cries locked behind his lips and palms pressing against them.

"Would you like your weighted blanket?"

That… Didn't sound horrible.

The tiniest nod was all Jaskier managed.

"Can I place it on you?" Geralt's voice was incredibly soft.

"...Yeah…" that was a comfort he could grant Geralt.

The warm weight being carefully draped over him did help slightly, making him feel the tiniest bit more grounded. Safer. He was so irrationally terrified for some reason. Jaskier hadn't even realized the depth of his fear before a sliver of it was lifted away.

It was almost as if his emotions were flashing back to how he had felt with Marden.

"...Are you sure… sure you couldn't Axii me?" Jaskier forced out between tears. "Calm me down? Or make me sleep? Please?"

"No," Geralt ground out through gritted teeth. "I will not. I don't care how you ask for it, I won't do it. Ever."

"...Okay…"

It'd be futile to keep pestering the Witcher. Not that he had the energy to try.

"Stay until I fall asleep again? Please?" it felt so needy to ask that. But he was exhausted. And back to being too scared to be able to fall asleep without Geralt guarding him.

Pathetic.

"Of course. Jaskier, are you sure I should leave for the ride at all?" Geralt asked, sounding concerned.

"Roach needs it," Jaskier said, not actually wanting the Witcher to leave his side. Hesitantly and deeply ashamed he added. "Take the sleeping potions with you too. I don't- I don't trust myself not to use those if I wake up alone."

"Okay. Thanks for letting me know," there was no judgment in Geralt's tone.

There should be.

Too tired to do anything else Jaskier pulled the weighted blanket up to his ears, wishing he could simply disappear under it. Wishing he'd fall asleep already.

Geralt seriously hadn't known before all this just how badly he could hurt without being wounded. But seeing Jaskier like this felt like he was being stabbed right in the fucking heart.

"Is it okay if I ask Brajan to check on you while I'm out?" Geralt asked, hoping Jaskier would be comfortable with it. It felt like an awful idea to leave the bard alone like this but Roach really did need to get out.

"...Okay…" came the faint answer from underneath the blankets.

"Great."

With that they lapsed into silence. It took a long time for Jaskier to finally relax enough to fall back asleep. Letting the bard sleep felt like the kindest thing he could do for him. Whether or not it was the right thing to do Geralt had no idea. Moving silently he retrieved the potion bag and exited the room, taking care to close the door as quietly as possible. It took only a brief stop by the counter to ask Zofia to pass on his request to Brajan.

"Hello, Roach. Let's go for a run," Geralt greeted the mare, starting to quickly brush her. "I'll try to make it as long as usual but Jaskier is doing terribly again so let's not waste time."

Whether Roach understood the meaning of his words or she just was in a good mood was anyone's guess. But she did obediently let herself be readied and led outside. Ears pricked and steps eager, she started walking from the first nudge and shift of Geralt's weight.

"He was so terrified, Roach. Of nothing. He just woke up like that," Geralt sighed as they reached the secluded forest paths. "There was no trigger. I think. Maybe yesterday hit him harder than I thought. And he has been more active lately. Perhaps he's been overestimating what he's ready for. I don't know. I just don't fucking know."

"...I really could talk to Vesemir," Geralt confessed quietly.

Roach didn't offer much opinion on the issue, just continued trotting happily.

"We really do need to leave soon, within days preferably. A week at most. Even if Jaskier still can't decide if he wants to swing by Oxenfurt or not. The general direction will be the same anyway for now. It's a rough journey to Kaer Morhen and we won't be able to travel for long at all per day once we hit the mountains," Geralt continued musing out loud to the mare. "It'd be hard on Jaskier even if he was healthy. You'll help him, won't you?"

"I also need to remind him about leaving, give him time to prepare. He's definitely not thinking about timing. I'll talk to him about it tomorrow. That sounds reasonable, right?"

This time Roach gave a huff.

Geralt decided she agreed with him.

Shifting his weight and giving Roach a nudge, the steady trot turned into canter. He'd let her gallop for a bit later.

"This is going to be one lean journey moneywise. Wouldn't be surprised if Jaskier's performances end up feeding us for the most part. I don't want to leave him alone while I take care of a hunt too often. It'll be unavoidable but…"

He really wasn't looking forward to that. The sooner they'd reach the keep, the better.

Jaskier was sure he'd have been glad that Geralt had returned by the time he woke up if he had the capacity to feel something. As it was, there was only a brief flash of relief before it got buried under the fear and numbness.

There were fingers ghosting over the scars on his back and carding through his hair.

Not wanting to deal with anything, Jaskier closed his eyes again.

"Time to eat," Geralt's voice woke him up.

Realizing protesting would only be a waste of time and energy, Jaskier dragged himself into a sitting position.

Long healed bruises complained about the movement.

Despite his best efforts Jaskier didn't manage to get through even a third of the portion handed to him. With a frustrated sigh he laid down again, hating himself for the way he was worrying Geralt with his behavior.

He felt so powerless against all this.

Rest of the day and evening didn't get much better but at least he was occasionally able to interact with Geralt.

Jaskier was ready to cry from relief when it finally got late enough to be acceptable to down a potion and be done with the day.

It didn't feel exactly like a good morning when Jaskier woke up but compared to yesterday it was a great improvement in mood. For one, he didn't feel like he was drowning in baseless terror and nonexistent bruises weren't hurting anymore.

"...Morning," he croaked, throat dreadfully dry.

"Jaskier," Geralt said, sounding pleased to be addressed. "How are you feeling?"

"Better. Not good but better," Jaskier answered, getting up stiffly to pour himself water. "If you give me a moment to get used to being awake I think I can go downstairs for breakfast."

"Take as long as you need," Geralt nodded, a few of the worry lines disappearing.

"Thanks."

It was slightly over half an hour later that they were sitting at their usual corner table, breakfast in front of them.

"Jaskier, we'll need to leave soon. Preferably within the next few days," Geralt informed him, holding steady eye contact.

The statement caused a cold wave of uncertainty to wash over Jaskier. "I know."

"Doesn't have to be tomorrow or the day after that. You can take time to get ready for it. We aren't in a hurry but I also want to keep it that way. Kaer Morhen isn't easy to reach," Geralt continued, studying him closely.

"So I've heard," Jaskier nodded, fingers starting to fidget with his beads.

"Have you decided whether or not to go to Oxenfurt?"

"I… I don't want to go but I think I need to," Jaskier muttered.

"Why?" Geralt asked, confused.

"I'm pretty sure by now half of my friends and colleagues think I'm terminally ill or something," Jaskier sighed wearily. "Completely disappearing for several months would probably make them hold a wake for me."

Ripping a small piece off of the slice of bread he was holding, Jaskier continued ruefully. "Tymon will have talked about our meeting and you know how rumors swell. I'm not ready to be written off as dead or dying. Showing up to decline the teaching position for the winter in person should be enough to quell at least some of it even though I'm not looking anywhere my best. But at least I'm not rotting in a ditch, so…"

Jaskier noticed the way Geralt's jaw clenched at the mention of Tymon. Apparently the Witcher was still harboring a grudge of some sort.

"Would that be alright with you? Briefly stopping by the university?" Jaskier asked nervously, praying fervently he hadn't made the wrong choice.

"Yes. We have time for it," Geralt said easily.

The relief made Jaskier's legs feel weak for a moment. Good thing he was already sitting. "Thank you."

"You don't have to thank me."

"Mmhmm."

It took a while before Jaskier spoke again. "We can leave tomorrow if you want."

"Don't you want more time?" Geralt asked, surprised.

"It's fine. I know we'll be traveling slowly because of me. Like you said, better to make sure we don't have to hurry," Jaskier said quietly, chest cold. "I'm sorry I make things difficult."

"Don't. Don't apologize. There's no reason for it," Geralt grumbled, clearly fed up with the never-ending cycle.

"Sorry."

"Hn."

"Sorry. Shit."

Jaskier took a deep breath to try to disrupt the loop. It was annoying to him too when he couldn't stop.

"So, I was thinking that I'd like to take one last look at the bathtub before we leave," Jaskier said, trying to sound nonchalant. "This is a safe place, makes it easier, and there won't even be a chance to do so for a bit after we leave."

"You sure? Shouldn't you try to rest?" Geralt sounded unconvinced.

"I'll rest most of the time," Jaskier agreed.

"Fine."

"Thank you, Geralt. That means a lot to me."

It truly did.

After forcing one more tiny piece of bread down his throat Jaskier clapped his hands softly together. "I'm finished. I'll ask if I can spend time in the kitchen while you're riding. I can inform them about our upcoming departure at the same time."

And he wanted to spend a little more time with the family before leaving.

"Sounds good," Geralt said, sounding slightly contemplative. Probably trying to decide whether or not he had eaten enough.

Jaskier wasn't suddenly sure how to bring up the fact that they'd be leaving as he listened to Anja chatter and watching her, Lena and Brajan work around the kitchen. Honestly, just the thought of leaving was harder that Jaskier had expected. But, then again, this was the first place he had felt safe at since the feast so maybe it shouldn't be so surprising.

"What do you think, Jaskier?" Anja asked, startling him out of his thoughts.

"Huh?"

"You agree I'm right, don't you?"

"...Sure," frankly, he had absolutely no idea what the girl had said.

"See? See, Lena, see? I'm right," Anja announced, pointing a ladle at her sister triumphantly.

"Yes, yes. Congratulations," Lena drawled, barely glancing up from the vegetables she was dicing.

"We're leaving tomorrow," Jaskier blurted out, causing all the activity to halt.

"What?!" Anja exclaimed loudly.

"You will?" Brajan asked, surprised.

"Really?" Lena said, startled.

"Yeah," Jaskier mumbled, feeling suddenly self-conscious as they all whirled to look at him.

"Are you coming back? Is it another hunt?" Anja questioned him rapidly.

"No, we'll travel on. We have a destination for the winter and need to stop by Oxenfurt before going there," Jaskier explained, trying hard not to feel guilty about the way Anja's expression fell.

"Oxenfurt, huh? That's rather far away," Brajan said, drawing Anja close to loop his arms around her shoulders.

Not as far as Kaer Morhen.

"I need to drop by to decline a teaching position at the university. And show people I'm still alive and kicking which is probably a hotly debated subject over there currently," fame was great, rumors like the ones that surely circulated about him weren't.

"You're a teacher?" Lena asked, sounding genuinely interested.

"Occasional professor at the Oxenfurt University, yes. I studied the seven liberal arts there," Jaskier nodded. "But guest lectures and spending some winters teaching is enough of the academic life for me. Traveling around the Continent is far more interesting and inspiring."

"That's great and all but couldn't you two stay at least a few more days?" Anja interjected with a pout.

"I'm sorry. We really do need to travel on," Jaskier said, voice getting quieter as the irrational and far too familiar need to keep apologizing reared its head again. "I'm sorry. Really. It's not because I -we- don't like it here. This place is lovely and you all are far kinder than I could ever deserve."

"Jaskier, no, there's no reason for you to apologize," Brajan said firmly. "It has been a pleasure getting to know you and Geralt."

As Jaskier didn't say anything, Brajan repeated the sentiment. "It has. Never doubt it."

"Thank you, the pleasure has been all mine," Jaskier cringed inwardly at how impersonal his answer sounded so he quickly continued. "Truly. Meeting you, all of you, means so much to me. I'm not exaggerating when I say that you've helped me to regain some trust in people. It's… I can never thank you enough for how incredibly kind, helpful, and understanding you've been, allowing -welcoming- us to become a part of your lives for a while."

"Part of the family," Anja announced decidedly.

Neither Brajan nor Lena protested the declaration.

Jaskier had to blink rapidly to avoid tears from falling and swallow thickly before he was able to speak again. "Thank you so much. I care about you too."

"Do you know what time you'll leave? I'm sure everyone wants to send you off and say goodbye," Brajan asked.

"Probably right after breakfast so depends on when I wake up," there was absolutely no way Geralt would be purposefully waking him. The Witcher would probably be perfectly happy if he slept until noon.

"That's good to know," Brajan nodded.

"Brajan… I, uh, could I… Could I shake your hand?" Jaskier mumbled, staring fixedly at the table and feeling foolish. "Not right now but…"

"You want to shake hands?" Brajan echoed, stunned.

"...Please forget I said anything," it had been a silly thing to ask.

"Oh, no, no. I didn't mean I wouldn't like to do so. Simply surprised me," Brajan said. "Didn't expect it. But I'd be honored."

_Honored?_

"...Right. Thank you."

"Jaskier? Could you sing something?" Anja requested suddenly. "I'm going to really miss hearing you perform."

"I can do that. Is there something in particular you'd like to hear?" Jaskier agreed, more than happy to indulge the girl.

"Not really," Anja shrugged. "Everything sounds good when it's you singing it."

Her sincerity was incredibly sweet.

"How about _Selkie Maiden_?" Lena offered. "It's such a lovely ballad."

" _Selkie Maiden_ it shall be then," Jaskier said, taking a few breaths before starting to sing.

_"Hear the ocean waves,_   
_The cries of the gulls,_   
_The wind and the rain,_   
_As a maiden struggled forward in vain,_

_For the shore was far,_   
_And her strength was gone,_   
_The boat she rowed tossed about,_   
_Mere plaything for the sea…"_

One song turned into another and yet another as the girls started requesting a song after a song, Jaskier gladly fulfilling each and every one. It didn't take long before Ella too migrated into the kitchen, lured in by the music and bringing a basketful of peas to shell with her and making it the perfect time to thank the girls for what they had done.

Even though they shouldn't have.

Eventually Geralt returned, stopping to silently stand by the threshold to wait for the current song to end.

"Hi, Geralt," Jaskier greeted once he finished the last note. "Had fun?"

"Hmmm. You?" Geralt agreed.

"Yes," Jaskier said sincerely, looking around fondly before standing up and going to stand next to Geralt.

"Uh, Brajan? Could we shake hands now?" Jaskier asked nervously, moving closer to surprised Geralt. "I don't know how I'll end up reacting but I truly do want to do it. I'm beyond grateful and trust you. If I have a negative response it's involuntary, nothing personal."

"Of course we can," Brajan said, wiping his hands clean and coming to stand in front of him.

Glancing around heart racing Jaskier saw the girls to be suddenly pointedly busy, keeping their heads turned away and focusing on their jobs in an attempt to give them some privacy. It was a kind gesture. Having an audience didn't sound appealing in the least.

"Jaskier, you can change your mind if you want to," Brajan said, offering his hand and waiting for him to take it.

Shaking hands suddenly felt a much more frightening idea than a minute ago. It had been weeks since he had touched anyone but Geralt in a positive manner. And he hadn't really thought it through before sticking his hand out for Tymon to shake it. Not like he was doing now.

Mouth dry and hands shaking Jaskier reached out slowly, not daring to blink. After hovering his hand indecisively for what seemed like an eternity he finally clasped Brajan's, letting go almost immediately.

Stumbling backwards Jaskier felt his breaths turn irregular and the shaking spread out to encompass all of him.

He couldn't deny being suddenly afraid.

"Jaskier?" Geralt checked carefully.

"Mhm," Jaskier managed a tiny sound, unable to tear his eyes off the innkeeper.

Brajan was standing completely still, hands down unthreateningly and a worried expression on his face.

"Jaskier, do you want to leave?" Geralt asked, trying to gain Jaskier's attention.

"...Yeah…" Jaskier mumbled in a small voice, still staring. "...I'm sorry, Brajan…"

"Don't be. You should be proud of yourself, Jaskier. What you just did was huge," Brajan said sincerely.

It was terribly difficult to look away from the innkeeper as Jaskier followed Geralt out of the kitchen. He couldn't get rid of the irrational feeling that Brajan would suddenly surge forward to grab him. As Geralt shut their door Jaskier headed to sit on the floor and leaned against the bed, hugging himself tightly. His heart was beating just as fast as before, cold sweat glistening on his forehead and breaths shuddering.

"Jaskier, you're safe. Take slow and deep breaths. Nothing is wrong," Geralt coaxed. "Can I come to you?"

"...Yes. Just… Just don't touch," Jaskier murmured, focusing on doing as told.

"I won't," Geralt confirmed, coming to sit next to him.

It was safer like this.

Gods, he was acting so stupid, being scared of Brajan. Hopefully it'd pass soon. The innkeeper wasn't any sort of a threat.

After a while Jaskier did manage to steady his breathing and relax his pose slightly. "Hi."

"Feeling better?" Geralt asked, studying him critically.

"Yeah, I do," Jaskier nodded. "Tired but that's nothing new, just the same old song and dance."

"Then rest."

"I will. You know, I've wanted to do that for a while now. I just haven't felt ready to try," Jaskier said, tugging his shoes off. "But I'd regret it if we left and I didn't do it."

"You weren't feeling ready?" Geralt demanded, eyes narrowing.

"I was, in a way. I wasn't lying to Brajan if that's the conclusion you came to," Jaskier rebuffed and climbed into the bed. "It's simply still really frightening, touching anyone but you."

There was a heavy sigh from Geralt.

"Jaskier, let's not try approaching the bathtub," the Witcher said.

"What?"

"It won't do you any good. You're already overwhelmed and it'll only make things worse."

...That might be true.

"But-"

"No. You need to take it easy and rest today. We have a long journey ahead of us. Besides, you're going to perform tonight, aren't you?" Geralt stated, looking resolute. "Now, rest for a while. Let's go eat afterwards."

Damn Geralt and his logic.

"Fine," Jaskier grumbled and pulled the blanket more snuggly around himself.

Geralt couldn't help the way he kept stealing glances at Jaskier as he was checking their provisions while the bard was quietly reading. To be honest, he hadn't been able to stop doing so the whole day. He just kept feeling pleasantly surprised by Jaskier's sudden willingness to accept physical contact, no matter how brief, from anyone else than him. And the bard had even handled it rather well afterwards.

Scared and rattled, yes, but not falling apart.

"We should buy some more food before leaving. Let's do it tomorrow morning," Geralt informed Jaskier and closed the saddlebag. Better to stock up now than be eventually forced to enter a town to secure some regardless of circumstances.

"Do you need to buy anything else?" he added.

"I don't think so," Jaskier mused. "I have everything I need."

"Hmmm."

That was good. They wouldn't have much money to spare for anything but the necessities. Not that he probably would be able to refuse if Jaskier wanted to get something.

The bard closed his book with a snap. "Let's go downstairs, shall we? Leave plenty of time for dinner before it gets to a reasonable time for me to perform."

Which most likely meant Jaskier wasn't sure how well he'd be able to eat. Fuck. Although, not very surprising with the way he had to be anxious about moving on tomorrow. It was clear that the more stressed Jaskier felt, the harder it was for him to take care of himself. Hopefully it'd level out again once they had traveled for a while.

Geralt still had to bite down a displeased grumble.

"Sounds good," he said instead.

Little later Geralt was very glad to find out that he had been wrong as Jaskier managed to finish everything even though it was extremely slow going.

"I really hope people will be happy or at least willing to part with their coins generously tonight," Jaskier said, observing the room keenly. "One can never have too much money while traveling."

"Hmmm."

The bard was right. They'd need everything Jaskier could earn. It'd be great if they could stop at an inn whenever they wanted and not worry about the costs in case Jaskier wouldn't be able to bargain them a free room. Sleeping indoors occasionally would be more important than usual. It should make Jaskier feel secure enough to use the sleeping potions.

…Fuck. The bard better get over his fear of taking them while camping. There was no way he'd be able to go on if he stopped sleeping again. It was undeniably a tempting idea to mix them in Jaskier's drink if he would otherwise refuse to use them. But it'd be an absolutely terrible breach of the bard's trust and therefore out of question. He'd never do it.

Still tempting.

"I think there's a decent enough audience now. Besides, I want to retire for the night pretty early," Jaskier sighed, standing up and lifting his lute. "Get plenty of sleep and all that."

Apparently Jaskier was using his brain for once.

The bard also stopped only few steps away from him, hopefully unwilling to push himself and not due to anxiety.

"A lot of you good people probably already know that I'm Jaskier the bard and here to bring enjoyment and excitement to your evening. Sadly, I also have to tell you that this will be my last performance here as my companion and I will leave tomorrow morning," Jaskier said, placing a hand dramatically against his heart to add more flair.

It was a good sign when there were some dismayed noises. People really might be more generous than usual knowing this was the last chance to hear Jaskier's singing.

After a few hesitant notes Jaskier started to play as normal, voice clear and fingering sure on the strings.

And avoided the raunchier songs completely the whole performance.

Eventually the bard finished his set, giving an elaborate bow before going back to sit with Geralt who couldn't help noticing the way Jaskier's hands were starting to tremble. His heart was racing too, its beating far too loud in Geralt's ears. Jaskier's nowadays usual post performance jitters were clearly settling in as people started to approach.

"Jaskier, nothing bad will happen. Everything is fine," Geralt whispered right before the first patron arrived, getting a nod in answer.

Geralt was irritated when knowing it to be the last night some assholes tried to get too familiar with Jaskier, attempting to try their luck and making him growl out warnings. The bard was obviously getting more and more anxious with each retracted word that even slightly alluded to interest in more than just the music. At least the profits were better than average.

By the time the last of the listeners left Jaskier was almost vibrating with nerves.

"Time to go," Geralt stated and stood up.

"Yes. Absolutely," Jaskier agreed almost desperately, looking ready to run to their room.

Once there Jaskier gently placed his lute back in its case and headed to the window. Hugging himself tightly he pressed his temple against it, taking carefully controlled breaths and closed his eyes.

"Jaskier?" Geralt asked, feeling slightly on edge due to the bard's behavior.

"Need a minute," Jaskier murmured.

"Hmmm."

Maybe he should try to feel positive about Jaskier answering at all.

After what felt like a far too long moment the bard finally pushed himself away from the window and headed to sit on the edge of the bed instead. Still not saying anything he tugged his boots off and rubbed his face tiredly.

"Jaskier?" Geralt tried again.

"Yeah?"

Good. An answer.

"Do you need anything?"

"...Sit with me for a while?" Jaskier requested, sounding hesitant as if waiting for a refusal.

Finally. It had been starting to eat at him not to be allowed to get particularly close to the bard. Not that he'd tell Jaskier. The idiot would most likely start pushing himself to accept closeness he wasn't ready for, thinking he had to be able to handle the same amount of contact every day. Which was absolute bullshit.

Just sitting next to Jaskier like this was calming.

Strangely reassuring.

Geralt wasn't even sure why it made him feel like that.

"Could we hold hands?" Jaskier asked quietly, fingers drumming against the mattress.

"Of course," Geralt agreed, reaching for Jaskier's hand resting between them.

If simply sitting side by side was reassuring, being allowed to touch again was melting something inside him. Seeing Jaskier relax a bit only intensified the sensation.

These feelings were still so foreign.

Still hard to put down in words.

"I'll miss this place, especially the whole family," Jaskier said, idly tracing figures onto Geralt's palm.

"Hmmm."

"They're incredible. So kind, so accepting," Jaskier continued. "And Brajan has been an immense help. I really had no idea what I was doing before coming here. Not that I've figured things out."

"He's a good man," Geralt confirmed, agreeing with Jaskier. Except the bard had figured out much more than he apparently thought. That blind fool.

"We should drop by if we ever travel around here," Jaskier said.

"We should," Geralt was determined to make that happen come spring.

Jaskier turned to look at him properly. "Could you please hold me for a little while?"

"Yes. Always," it was the truth. Geralt was ready to drop almost anything he'd be doing in favor of that.

There were small shudders running through Jaskier as Geralt embraced him gently. The bard was clearly starting to get exhausted instead of just tired. But Jaskier did give a sigh that sounded almost content. It was more than enough for Geralt to keep hugging the bard instead of urging him to lay down and start sleeping. Such a small gesture probably shouldn't be as heart warming as it was but this was the first time Jaskier had allowed him to touch since the day before yesterday.

It was a precious gift.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof, the next day sure wasn't good to Jaskier. But at least it was only one day...!
> 
> Housekeeping Note: I've decided to end this fic after Oxenfurt and have Kaer Morhen be its own story. Biting Snake is already a Beast and I don't want it to turn into a monster. :"D And Oxenfurt will be the perfect spot to wrap things up.
> 
> There's still chapters to go but we're definitely starting to get close to the finish line...!


	84. Chapter 84

It felt strange picking up his lute case and a saddlebag knowing that they wouldn't be returning. Also scary. There'd be no telling what would happen during the traveling unlike here where days had been almost structured in a way for the most part. It wouldn't be possible to control what would happen on the road.

Not that there was an alternative available. They couldn't stay here forever.

"Well. This is it," Jaskier noted as he closed the door behind them.

"Hmmm," came Geralt's elaborate reply as they headed downstairs.

Jaskier wasn't sure why he was so surprised seeing that the whole family, Olga included, was milling by the counter, waiting for them to come and return the keys. He had known they'd be there. Hanna had even told so when they had come down for breakfast.

It made his heart swell with fondness and gratitude.

"Jaskier, Geralt!" Anja exclaimed the moment she spotted them.

"Morning Anja, everyone," Jaskier greeted, managing even a small and brief smile.

"You really are leaving, huh. I hope you know and believe it has been a pleasure having you stay with us," Brajan said, coming to take the keys. "You'll always have a place here. We'd love to have you drop by again."

"Thank you so much. All of you. I'll never be able to thank you for your kindness enough," Jaskier hoped his sincerity came through his voice and the words.

"Nonsense. There's nothing to thank us for," Brajan disagreed with a warm smile.

"Exactly! You don't have to thank family for letting you stay. That's what you are now so suck it," Anja declared, heedless of her parents' admonishments for her language. "Brothers or weird, really weird, uncles? Which ones do you want to be?"

The question was surprising enough to startle a brief laugh from Jaskier. One that was answered with beaming smiles from the inn family.

"What do you think, Geralt? Want to be a son that's at minimum the double of the father's age?" Jaskier asked the Witcher.

"You're _ancient_ ," Ella whispered awed and promptly slapped hands over her lips and blushed, the sentiment clearly having slipped free by an accident.

Geralt just huffed and gave her a flat look.

Taking an advantage of the brief lull in the conversation, Zofia retrieved a small sack from behind the counter.

"Here, for the travel," she said, holding it out for them to take.

Not knowing what else to do, Jaskier took it with a bemused thanks and looked inside. Food. He could spy an assortment of root vegetables under several parcels.

"There's hard cheese, cured meat and fish, loaf of bread, and a few honey buns in those parcels. And the bottle holds strawberry juice," Zofia explained as Jaskier looked at her in astonishment. "A farewell gift and a prayer for a safe journey."

"I… Thank you…" Jaskier had to close his eyes against a sudden urge to cry. "So much."

"I'll carry it," Geralt said, drawing him back to present.

"No. I have a free hand unlike you. It's not that heavy," Jaskier refused, normally it really wouldn't be hard to carry. But the stable was close and it wasn't as if he'd collapse under the added weight on the way there. After that it'd be Roach carrying the sack around anyway.

"I'm sending you two telepa-" Anja stopped abruptly, sized Geralt up and down, and skipped to stand in front of him. Spreading her arms wide she demanded. "Hug me Geralt! And then you can share it with Jaskier later."

Geralt's face was truly a sight as he stared at the girl.

"...What?" Geralt asked, taken aback.

"A hug. I know you know what they are and how to give one but obviously you don't have to if you don't want to. I'll just send you two telepathic ones instead," Anja said, still standing arms spread.

After a brief stare down Geralt sighed and bent down to give her a quick hug before grabbing the saddlebags he had placed by his feet.

"Time to go," Geralt stated as Anja backed away with a wide and satisfied grin.

"Thank you, once again," Jaskier said, following Geralt's cue and lifted a saddlebag from the floor where he had temporarily placed it.

"Jaskier, things will get easier with time," Olga assured him quietly. "I know it's hard to believe but trust me."

"...I'll try," it was the only honest answer Jaskier could give.

"Please come back sometime if you can," Lena and Hanna said almost in unison.

"You'll always be welcome here," Zofia added.

"Bye bye-" Ella started and let Anja finish with "-weird uncles. You didn't decide so I did it for you!"

"Goodbye. I hope you'll have a safe journey," Brajan said, smiling warmly. "Take care of yourselves and each other."

The family managed to be just as lively with their farewells as with everything else.

"Thank you so very much. We'll drop by if we ever get a chance," Jaskier agreed, aware that his voice had a slight tremble. "Goodbye."

"Thank you for everything," Geralt said just before stepping out of the inn.

"This is weird," Jaskier stated suddenly, looking down at Geralt from where he was riding Roach.

"What is?" Geralt asked, glancing at him.

"Knowing we aren't returning," Jaskier said before deciding on being completely honest and continued. "It's almost scary, or rather it _is_ scary, not knowing what will happen now. There's so much that can go wrong before reaching Oxenfurt. Not to mention that it's going to be filled with people. So many people. And I'm well-known there."

Geralt stayed silent for a while, brow knitted thoughtfully before speaking. "Are you sure you want to go there?"

"No, like I told you, I don't actually want to go. But I really do need to make an appearance there before disappearing without a trace for several months. Doesn't matter how good a letter I'd write to decline the position of a professor for the winter, it'd still be a hit on my reputation with the rumors surely circulating. Believe or not, there's actual politics going on over there. If I fall completely out of favor it'll be really difficult for me to start stitching my career back together. Doesn't matter how skilled you are if you get blacklisted, life can be made very hard for a bard," Jaskier said, feeling frustrated by the situation.

Yet another thing he couldn't affect.

"How?"

"Want to perform in Oxenfurt or Novigrad, even some other cities? Suddenly a lot of places have convenient reasons why you can't. Same with various competitions. Nobles and other wealthy people mysteriously lose interest in hiring you. Depending on how far you've fallen the farther your status as persona non grata will spread," Jaskier explained, having to fight against tightening his grip on the reins. "Sure, you can still make a living but you can pretty much say farewell to having any standing or renow. Even playing my songs anywhere influential might be looked down upon no matter who'd be doing it."

"I'm not going to risk that," he concluded.

"Hmmm," Geralt hummed, sounding contemplative.

Not surprising. This was definitely new information to the Witcher. It wasn't as if he had had any reason to delve into that sort of politics going on in artistic circles. And he knew Geralt had pretty much ignored it each time he had ranted about the subject.

"So, thanks for agreeing to stop by there," Jaskier said, offering a wry smile that disappeared almost instantly.

"Of course. It's important to you," Geralt stated simply as if it was given.

"Still, thank you."

It was maybe half an hour later that Jaskier spoke up again, tone hesitant. "Geralt? Could we take a break?"

"Sure," Geralt agreed immediately and started to look around for at least a sort of comfortable spot to stop. It didn't take much longer than a minute before the Witcher found what he was looking for.

It felt good to be able to sit down and lean against a tree, resting his muscles. Riding Roach at walk wasn't particularly demanding but they had been traveling for a while now. Trying to pace himself should make it possible to continue longer than if he pushed himself to the brink of exhaustion. Or so he hoped at least.

"How are you doing?" Geralt asked, offering Jaskier a waterskin.

"I'm fine, not too tired," Jaskier answered, glad to be actually telling the truth. "Just trying to be sensible."

"Good. I like that attempt," Geralt informed him, taking the waterskin back to drink too.

"Geralt, you're keeping an eye out for dangers, aren't you?" Jaskier had to ask, needing to hear the Witcher confirm it. He couldn't stop himself from starting to fidget with the beads.

"I am," Geralt assured him. "Jaskier, I'll do my best to make sure we won't encounter any problems. Don't worry about it."

Easier said than done.

But it was kind of Geralt not to promise that nothing would happen. It wasn't something that the Witcher could realistically control.

"Mmhmm."

"Jaskier, you're safe. Just because we left the inn doesn't mean something will go wrong," Geralt said, seeking eye contact. "You're not in danger."

"...I know," Jaskier agreed quietly. "This is just… a big change. Guess I need some time to adapt. Everything feels so uncertain."

"There's plenty of time. You'll get used to traveling again," Geralt promised. "The world is the same as always."

"...Not to me…" Jaskier murmured, looking away from the Witcher.

"What do you mean?" there was a frown in Geralt's voice.

"Something has changed within me. I'm not the same. I focus on different things than before. Right now I'm not marveling at the beauty of sunlight beaming through the canopy, I'm trying to discern if there's something moving in the shadowed underbrush. I keep unconsciously trying to find threats all the time," Jaskier admitted, his other hand joining in playing with the necklace. "Maybe that's why songwriting is so hard."

"Hmmm."

Exactly. There wasn't much to say about it.

"Let's continue?" Jaskier suggested, getting up and starting to untie Roach.

"Sure," Geralt nodded, following his lead.

Jaskier sure was talkative suddenly. Not that Geralt had any complaints about it but it felt like a nervous tick rather than something the bard was doing because he enjoyed it. At least it meant finally understanding why Jaskier wanted to visit Oxenfurt despite obviously disliking the idea.

It had never even crossed his mind that there could be so much more to being a bard than just writing songs and then playing them. It had seemed such a straightforward career. Admittedly, Geralt knew he had tuned out a lot of Jaskier's complaining about his colleagues and such. Maybe he would have known better by now if he had paid attention.

"Is that how it's always to you?" Jaskier asked, drawing Geralt out of his thoughts.

"What?" he really didn't know what the bard meant.

"The constant state of alertness? Evaluating everything by whether or not they pose a threat?" Jaskier clarified.

"Hmmm, most of the time. Keeps me alive," Geralt mused. "It's normal for me, automatic. I don't pay much attention to it unless I'm focusing on purpose. It's just what I do."

"Is it wrong that I hate it?" Jaskier mumbled after a pause, sounding ashamed.

"It's not," Geralt assured him. Jaskier wasn't meant for that life.

"Mmhmm."

Geralt wished he knew what to say. But he didn't so they lapsed into silence as Jaskier seemed to be done with speaking for now. For a moment things had felt familiar, traveling with Jaskier's voice surrounding them.

It didn't take very long until Jaskier started to show first signs of getting tired.

"Let's stop for early lunch soon," Geralt decided. There was absolutely no reason to push the bard travel farther without a longer break. Besides, they could cover more ground taking things slow but being able to go on for a couple more hours than otherwise.

"Yeah," Jaskier answered shortly.

Definitely getting tired then.

The moment Geralt saw a suitable place to stop, he steered them slightly off the road. It didn't take long to dig up a cold lunch and bring it to where Jaskier had sat down.

It was reassuring that the bard was able to finish it all.

"Geralt, could you hold me for a bit?" Jaskier asked, looking hopeful.

That too was reassuring.

"Come here," Geralt said, opening his arms in invitation.

It was nice when Jaskier curled against his side, giving a soft sigh and not minding having an arm wind around his shoulders. He felt so incredibly trusted by the gesture that it was almost hard to comprehend, hard to believe. Even after all this time and evidence showing Jaskier to feel the safest when with him.

Him of all people.

He who had failed to protect Jaskier in the first place.

"Relax, we won't move on for a while," Geralt told the bard, absentmindedly drawing circles with his thumb on Jaskier's shoulder.

"Mmhmm," Jaskier hummed, sounding sleepy.

"Rest, Jaskier. You're safe," Geralt whispered, not wanting to disturb the peaceful atmosphere.

Gods, how he wanted to place a kiss on the crown of Jaskier's head that was resting on his shoulder.

But he probably would never be allowed to do so. Not with the way the bastard king had been playing with Jaskier's hair. The bard surely wouldn't welcome any such gestures.

Geralt had to take a few deep breaths to shove the rising fury down. This wasn't the time to lose his temper thinking about what Jaskier had gone through. He didn't want to be seething in anger while the bard was sleeping against him. It should be fine to stay like this for an hour or so longer before continuing on and he didn't want to waste this moment of closeness.

They had been rarer than usual for the past couple of days.

"Jaskier, there's travelers heading our way," Geralt said, making Jaskier's breath catch.

There went the wish of not having to encounter any strangers.

"How far? And many?" Jaskier asked, doing his best not to tense up. It wasn't going very well.

"Two carts. I can't tell how many people there might be in them. We should pass them in a couple of minutes," Geralt informed him. "Do you want to get back on Roach?"

It was very tempting.

Would also feel like a defeat.

"No, I'll be fine like this," Jaskier decided, unable to keep hesitancy out of his tone.

"Hmmm," Geralt hummed, adjusting his position so he was more firmly between him and the middle of the road.

It made Jaskier feel a little better.

It didn't take long for him too to hear the horses and the carts as well as unfamiliar voices talking to each other.

"Hello there!" a woman sitting on the coach greeted them, slowing down when they got close.

Why, oh, why did she want to engage them in a conversation? Couldn't they have just passed each other in peace and silence? Did she want something from them?

Neither he or Geralt answered her.

Face falling a bit she tried again. "How's the road ahead?"

Perfectly normal thing for travelers to ask each other. Jaskier wished he could find his words to answer. He wasn't sure why it was suddenly so hard to speak to someone he didn't know. He had been doing so much better with it lately. Roach's irritated snort made Jaskier realize he had started to grip her reins far too hard, accidentally tugging her bit unpleasantly. With some difficulty he relaxed his fingers and instead moved closer to the mare until his shoulder brushed her coat.

"Fine," Geralt grunted, glaring daggers at the woman as well as the man sitting next to her.

They were both acting ridiculous, devolving back to old habits, Jaskier decided.

"...How- how about ahead of… of us?" Jaskier managed to ask despite the stammer accompanying his words.

"We didn't have any problems," the woman said before frowning slightly. "But there were rumors about warg sightings in the last village we passed. Heard about it a day before yesterday so they probably have moved on."

Lovely. Just what he had hoped for.

"Hnn," Geralt acknowledged her words.

"Uhhh, right then. Have safe travels," the woman said awkwardly and encouraged her horses to start walking.

"You too," Jaskier wished her quietly as they too started moving again.

"Alright?" Geralt checked when they had been walking alone for a minute or so.

"Yeah," Jaskier sighed, tension starting to slowly bleed away. He could feel Geralt studying him.

"Let's stop for the day soon," the Witcher said.

"Geralt, there's hours and hours of sunlight left. We should just keep walking," Jaskier protested, not comfortable with being the reason for making camp so early.

"You're not used to this much exercise. Better to gradually add more hours as days pass," Geralt stated evenly. "We can travel for another hour or so unless there's a suitable camping site before that."

"...Fine," not like he could continue on alone.

They ended up stopping in less than an hour as Geralt found a spot he liked. Jaskier had to reluctantly admit that he was already far more tired than he had any right to be and that the spot was very good. It would have been stupid to pass it to travel only a little longer. Still, he didn't have to like it.

So he didn't.

"Jaskier, I'll take care of things. You can just rest," Geralt said as he unhitched the saddlebags from Roach's tack.

"No. I'll help," Jaskier snapped before freezing as he realized having outright challenged Geralt.

Strongly.

"Jaskier, what's wrong?" Geralt asked, turning to look at him quizzically.

"...Nothing…" Jaskier said faintly, suddenly wanting to duck under Roach's neck to retreat to the other side and use her as a wall.

"Don't lie," Geralt demanded with a deep frown.

Oh fuck. What was he supposed to say?

"I… I'm fine," no, no, no, now he was again going against Geralt's command. What the fuck was he doing?

"Jaskier, I know something is wrong," Geralt stated, sounding frustrated. "Tell me. I can't help otherwise."

"...It's nothing. I'll- I'll go sit down and rest," Jaskier backtracked, hoping it'd solve the situation. If nothing else it gave him physical distance from the Witcher.

"You do that," Geralt agreed as he walked to sit a little distance away but didn't let the issue go. "But talk to me. What's going on?"

Geralt's insistence was finally enough to make Jaskier cave. "...I'm sorry I disagreed."

"What the hell, Jaskier?" Geralt grumbled, staring at him.

"..."

"You're distraught because you disagreed? Seriously?" Geralt asked, looking unbelieving.

Hugging one knee to his chest Jaskier nodded vaguely. "Mmhmm."

Geralt gave a heavy sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Why?

The Witcher seemed to be full of questions. Not that Jaskier could blame him, he too would like to know where this paralyzing uncertainty was stemming from. Why it had reared its head.

"...I don't know," he didn't have a better answer.

"Jaskier."

"I don't. I really don't know," Jaskier repeated, voice breaking. "Please."

"Okay, I believe you," Geralt seemed to have calmed down somewhat. "We'll figure this out then. Let me take care of a few things and then we'll talk."

"Alright," there wasn't really an alternative. Geralt wouldn't let this slide. Better to just go along.

Watching the Witcher move around building their camp and waiting for him to finish did nothing for Jaskier's nerves. Aside from making him more anxious. Eventually Geralt was done with the last chore and came to sit in front of him, just out of an arm reach. Probably noticing how tightly wound up he was. It wasn't as if Jaskier could fake being at ease.

"Well. What the hell is going on with you?" Geralt asked bluntly, regret flashing on his face immediately after finishing the question.

"I don't know," Jaskier shrugged.

"Guess then," Geralt stated, looking at him intensely.

"I just… I just want to avoid confrontations," Jaskier said after a pause, deciding it was the closest thing he could come up with.

"Has everything you've agreed to been because of that?" Geralt asked, voice strained and tensing up. The Witcher looked almost horrified. "Because you've been afraid of consequences, of what I'd have done?"

"Oh, Geralt, no," Jaskier exclaimed, surging forward so they were almost nose to nose. "No, my love. That's not it."

For the first time Geralt didn't react to the endearment.

"I know what you're thinking and absolutely not. You haven't been forcing yourself on me. Every kiss, every moment of being close to you, starting a relationship, all of it, I've wanted. More than anything," Jaskier said as forcefully as he could. "Do not start blaming yourself for something you haven't done. Look me right in the eye and listen well, Geralt of Rivia. I love you and every time I have consented to being touched by you I have meant it. Sincerely and whole-heartedly."

"Think, I have said no to you. More than once and for various reasons. And when I've stumbled over the issue, you've instantly recognized that I'm not in my right mind. You've turned me down each and every time without a fail. You. Have. Not. Taken. Advantage. Of me," Jaskier finished, wanting to shake the Witcher. Or kiss him until he'd be believed. Except for the fact that he wouldn't be able to do either, not when he was this badly on edge.

Forcing himself to touch Geralt would undermine everything he just said.

"Jaskier…"

"Do you trust me?" Jaskier asked seriously.

This time there wasn't hesitation in Geralt's voice. "I do."

"Then trust me on this," Jaskier beseeched, still looking deep in Geralt's eyes.

"I will," Geralt said after a contemplative pause, tension finally starting to leave the Witcher. "What's bothering you about the other things?"

"Give me a moment to think," Jaskier requested and leaned back so he wasn't right in Geralt's face anymore. Trying to dissect his reactions wasn't easy on any level.

"...I- I had to be constantly on guard with Marden. One wrong word and one or both of us would have been either hurt or killed," Jaskier explained slowly, tangling his hand into his beads. "Maybe it's that?"

"Hmmm, makes sense," Geralt agreed.

"Why it's suddenly a bigger problem I really don't know," Jaskier said, starting to feel exhausted as the intensity of the conversation mellowed out. He was getting close to his emotional limits.

"Do you recognize when it happens?" Geralt asked, frowning.

"Not really, it's just what I sometimes need to do…" Jaskier faltered before continuing. "But I think I also feel cold and really uncertain of everything, almost disoriented sometimes, when it happens."

"Can you try to counter it from now on, say what you really want to do?" Geralt requested. "Or if you can't say it, give me some sort of a signal that you're not okay?"

"I honestly don't know. I doubt it's that straightforward but I can try," Jaskier sighed wearily. "Geralt, I can't keep talking about this. I'm sorry."

"It's okay. Thanks for explaining," Geralt assured him even though the deep frown hadn't disappeared from his brow. "You should rest while I cook."

"Mmhmm."

There wasn't much else to do anyway, not with the way he was feeling the exhaustion all the way down to his very bones.

Fuck but he felt like like the abomination people liked to call him as an insult for not having noticed Jaskier's struggle. Just how many times had he made Jaskier do something the bard hadn't wanted but had been unable to disagree? Perhaps he hadn't unknowingly sexually abused Jaskier but it didn't make any other instances more acceptable.

He had been so fucking blind.

With a quiet growl Geralt stoked the campfire with far more force than necessary. He wanted to march back to that cursed castle and burn it to the ground until there was nothing left. Burn the bastard king's rotting corpse too while at it. Or feed it to hogs.

How the hell could he start helping Jaskier with this when he hadn't been able to recognize there was something really wrong? Would he be able to see the signs of Jaskier slipping into that mentality even knowing that was a possibility? The uncertainty of it was starting to eat at him and it hadn't been even an hour.

Maybe he should try to avoid saying things in a way that sounded like a command. Unless even suggestions might trigger the reaction.

Geralt gave another vicious poke at the fire, knowing he needed to calm down. Jaskier never reacted well to his aggression. He was completely sure part of it was caused by the way he had kept acting at the start, taking his frustration out on the bard. It had to have left a mark on Jaskier, so freshly traumatized and unable to even acknowledge what had happened. The way he had treated Jaskier was beyond shameful and now he was reaping what he had sowed.

Glancing at Jaskier he saw that the bard had abandoned sitting and had laid down on his bedroll, eyes closed but awake.

At least not traveling for a full day had been the right decision.

After testing the softness of a potato in the soup he was cooking Geralt too closed his eyes briefly to take a slow breath in an attempt to rein himself in. It shouldn't be this hard. He was a Witcher, he wasn't supposed to feel this strongly. But Jaskier seemed to have that effect on him, amplifying everything. Bringing completely new emotions to surface, some he didn't even have names for.

Being in love was so fucking weird.

He wouldn't trade it for anything.

By the time Geralt felt more in control the potatoes had turned from raw to smushy.

"Jaskier, come eat."

…Great. The first thing he said was an order.

There was a tired wordless grumble but Jaskier did drag himself up and trudged to sit next to him, accepting the bowl.

"How are you feeling?" Geralt asked casually as Jaskier started eating unenthusiastically.

"Fine."

Apparently the bard really was done talking.

"Hmmm."

It took a long time for Jaskier to finish. Not that Geralt minded. As long as Jaskier ate he was perfectly happy with it even if it'd take him hours. Anything was better than skipping meals.

"Here," Geralt said, offering one of the honey buns Zofia had packed for them.

"Thanks," Jaskier mumbled, taking it and tore a tiny piece off to nibble on.

After a while Jaskier wandered back to his bedroll, taking the mostly uneaten bun with him and laid down. As hours passed and Jaskier stayed mostly uninterested in anything, occasionally taking tiny bites from the bun, Geralt decided to start meditating. Maybe it'd help with the turmoil inside him that still refused to settle down. Couldn't hurt at least and would pass the time.

He did indeed feel more in control once he roused.

Which was good since he immediately wanted to grind his teeth together when he saw that the only change in Jaskier was that the bard had turned to lay on his other side.

"Jaskier, ready to take a sleeping potion?" Geralt asked, deciding it was late enough. And hoping the bard would agree.

"..."

"Jaskier?"

"I… How irritated will you be if I don't take one tonight?" Jaskier muttered instead of answering outright.

It was a good attempt to disagree.

"I don't like the idea but it's your call," Geralt shrugged. It wasn't as if he had seriously thought the bard would use one. "You know I won't force you to use them."

"Yeah, I know," Jaskier said, sounding sincere. "I think it's not safe to take one. You heard what that woman said about the wargs. I don't want to be completely out of it if something happens."

"Fair enough," Geralt acknowledged and resigned himself to a restless night.

Jaskier woke up with a cry and scrambled away. He didn't know where he was. It was too dark to see but he definitely wasn't in their room at the inn. It wasn't safe. He didn't know where Marden had dragged him, where here was. Didn't know how to get somewhere safe.

He'd die in this unfamiliar place.

He doubted anyone would even find his corpse.

There were words buzzing in his ears and someone was moving. Jaskier couldn't suppress the terrified noice or the way he curled into himself. It wasn't as if he'd be able to escape, not with the way he was shaking. Nor was he strong enough to face death smiling when he knew what would precede it.

He wasn't safe.

He didn't know where he was.

He was about to be taken and killed.

He wasn't safe.

Didn't know where he was.

Not safe.

Not safe.

"Jaskier! Listen to me!"

Not safe…?

"Jaskier, you're having a panic attack. You need to breathe."

...Not safe…?

"Jaskier. Jaskier, look at me. Fire is burning again, you can see me. Jaskier, look."

… Not…? ...Safe…?

"That's it. Jaskier, do you recognize me? No, don't close your eyes. Who am I?"

"...Ge- Ger- Geralt..?" Jaskier managed to choke out.

"Yes. Yes, Jaskier. It's me. You're safe. Safe," Geralt said evenly, kneeling well away from where he could reach out and grab him. "You need to slow your breathing. It's a panic attack."

Oh. He wasn't being strangled?

That was good.

It was terribly difficult to list the few things he could see, even harder to start breathing normally. Impossible to stop the tears. But he finally knew where he was. That it had only been a nightmare. That it had been a panic attack. That Geralt and Roach were the only ones with him.

Being safe was debatable.

Gods, he hated this inability to sleep without medicinal help.

"Jaskier? Can you come back to your bedroll?" Geralt asked calmly, making Jaskier realize that he was still kneeling on the forest ground.

There were roots digging into his shins.

With unsteady legs he staggered to the even ground and laid back down, shuddering with the aftershock and wiping the last tears away. He was gripped by a cold flash of panic when Geralt rose up and started to walk away but the Witcher only went to retrieve the weighted blanket.

Unwrapping the blanket from the oilskin protecting it against moisture, Geralt squatted next to him. "Would this help?"

"...Probably," wouldn't hurt at least. Not wanting to move he added. "Cover me."

Geralt did so without a comment.

"Geralt, I-"

"Don't apologize," Geralt interrupted with a hint of frustration shining through.

"...Thank you," Jaskier changed the wording. "For helping again. Could you please stay close?"

"Of course. How close?" Geralt agreed easily.

"Close enough to hold hands…?" this conversation should feel silly, negotiating where the Witcher could stay. Instead Jaskier felt as if something important was depending on Geralt's answer.

"I'd like that," Geralt said, getting up to drag his bedroll a bit closer to Jaskier's before laying down again and reaching out.

With a shuddering breath Jaskier hovered his hand over Geralt's until he saw the Witcher nod. What he had meant to be a light touch turned into a desperate grip as he was struck by the need to make sure they wouldn't be separated.

By what, Jaskier didn't know.

Only that he couldn't let go.

Or be let go.

Eventually he drifted off, the warm weight covering him and Geralt's hand grounding him making the world feel safe enough to do so again.

When Jaskier woke up in the morning, he was beyond surprised that Geralt was still holding his hand instead of having gotten up. But he could get used to this, having Geralt's unguarded face be the first thing he'd see.

"Morning, Geralt," Jaskier whispered and drew their hands closer to his lips. "May I give you a good morning kiss?"

"Yes," there was a smile in Geralt's eyes.

Beautiful.

It was a mere brush of lips against knuckles but Jaskier swore there was a real smile lighting the Witcher's face up for a fraction of a second.

It truly was his favorite sight in the world.

"Have you been awake for long?" Jaskier asked, playing with Geralt's fingers.

"A while."

So anything between no sleep and five minutes.

"Mmhmm."

"I need to get up," Geralt said, giving one last squeeze before letting go and started to roll up his bedding.

With a sigh Jaskier resigned himself to the same fate only to find all of his muscles as well as completely new ones he hadn't known about were incredibly stiff. He felt like a creaky hundred years old crone.

"I have lost my youth," Jaskier complained, trying and failing to reach his toes.

"Shit. Should have realized that you'd need to stretch after all that riding and walking," Geralt said. "Want to join in on my routine?"

"Yes, please," Jaskier said immediately.

"Hmmm."

Soon enough Jaskier was trying to mirror Geralt's movements, his awfully clumsy compared to the fluidity of the Witcher's. But the stretching was helping despite the discomfort and burning. He was starting to feel like a functioning human being again. Physically at least.

Jaskier stopped long before Geralt switched to sword practice and went to retrieve something appropriate for breakfast for them. He didn't feel hungry in the least but knew that he seriously needed to eat. And it'd make Geralt happy.

The Witcher did indeed look pleased when he spotted him nibbling on a slice of bread.

It didn't take them long to depart after Geralt finished his routine.

Jaskier was beyond relieved when their second day of traveling turned out to be uneventful to the point of monotony.

It was perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sad we won't be seeing the family anymore... :'( At least not during this or the next fic.
> 
> Also, congrats for anyone who spots the Wicked reference. I couldn't help myself...


	85. Chapter 85

Their third day had also passed without any problems if one didn't count the way Jaskier was constantly tired and still aching from the sudden increase in activity and restless nights.

And he absolutely refused to do so.

It was simply an inevitable byproduct.

"Geralt, don't you dare to start looking for a campsite to stop for the day," Jaskier said, noticing the Witcher scanning the forest around them in a way that revealed his intentions. "I'm perfectly capable of continuing on."

"You need to get used to this slowly," Geralt countered, still evaluating the scenery.

"This is the fourth day. I'm very much used to traveling again by now," well, maybe not very much. But sort of. Enough to go on for an hour or two.

Geralt only narrowed his eyes at him.

"I'll hop back on Roach and we'll travel for an hour?" Jaskier suggested.

After a short staring contest Geralt finally agreed to the terms.

This was far better, not being such a burden with the way he slowed them down. He knew it wasn't true but it felt like they were crossing only half the distance compared to the normal.

"Do you want to stop at the next village tomorrow?" Geralt asked, finally giving up on the search for a campsite.

"Yeah, sounds good," Jaskier decided. "We both could use a full night of sleep. Sorry I keep waking you up even though I haven't had as bad reactions as the first night."

"It's fine," Geralt sighed. "I rather be awake than let you work through the nights alone."

"Thank you, Geralt."

"Hmmm."

Jaskier would never admit it to Geralt but the extra hour might have been a bad idea after all. He honestly thought his legs might give out as he dismounted Roach. It was more through stubbornness than anything else that he managed to keep his knees from buckling.

Jaskier could feel Geralt's eyes burning a hole in his back as he walked to the first suitable spot and flopped down. Laying down was heavenly.

"You should stretch," Geralt reminded him, tending to Roach.

"I should," Jaskier agreed and didn't move.

"Now."

"In a minute."

"Hn."

Such a verbose conversation they were having.

But he really did start stretching after getting his breath back. He'd feel like hell come morning if he skipped it and being exhausted was more than enough. Laying back down felt even better than the first time.

"Jaskier, food is ready," Geralt's voice drew him back to reality.

"...Huh?" came Jaskier's intelligent reply as he tried to orient himself. "Did I doze off?"

"Hmmm," Geralt nodded. "Up. I'm not serving you."

"Fine, fine," Jaskier grumbled, staggering the few feet to sit by the fire with tired legs.

Geralt did serve him food.

By the time Jaskier managed to finish his portion, his tired back muscles were complaining about being upright so he turned towards Geralt. "Can I lean against you?"

"Of course," Geralt said immediately, shifting to accommodate him.

The Witcher was solid and warm, the perfect option to rest against. Even though it would be better if he wasn't wearing an armor.

"You can hold me if you want to," Jaskier murmured and was pleased when Geralt did want to do so.

"I love you, Geralt," Jaskier said, trying to look Geralt in the eye. The angle didn't grant him the gorgeous view.

"What was that for?" Geralt asked suspiciously, also craning his neck until they managed to lock eyes.

"No reason other than loving you," Jaskier told him easily. "You deserve to keep hearing it. I know it's a hard concept for you to grasp."

"Shut up."

"Relax, Geralt. You know I'm right," Jaskier huffed good-naturedly as the Witcher tensed up. He knew better than to actually clam up. It hadn't been the right thing to do last time, not what Geralt had actually meant.

"Shut up, Jaskier. I hear something."

Well, fuck. Wrong decision.

Jaskier could feel his heart skip a beat from both the mistake and the creeping fear the unheard sound caused.

"Wargs. Just four, something must have happened to the pack," Geralt informed Jaskier, pushing him off and got up immediately. "Get behind me, go to Roach."

"Give me your other sword," Jaskier said as howls pierced the quiet far closer than he had guessed, making him shiver and the mare snort nervously.

"It's too heavy for you," Geralt stated, drawing his steel sword in anticipation. "You won't be able to wield it."

"I need _something_ ," Jaskier demanded. "I can't fight a warg with my stiletto."

"Hopefully you won't be fighting at all," Geralt grumbled, eyes sweeping the surrounding forest. "Grab the longest dagger from the saddlebag."

"I'll lose my hand to a wolf's teeth if I try to stab it with this thing," Jaskier complained, heart racing in fear. Of course, of course their, his, luck couldn't hold. Things had been going far too well.

"Fine. Don't use it unless necessary," Geralt caved, stabbing his silver sword lightly in the ground so Jaskier could grab it quickly. That done the Witcher started laying down _Yrden_ traps in hopes that some of the wargs would step in.

The howls of the hunt were far too close for comfort and Jaskier could swear he caught a glimpse of something moving through the trees. He was sweating and his hands shook. He was scared. Afraid. But not terrified. Yet. Would definitely be in a minute. He was so useless. Geralt was right about the sword, it was too heavy for him. Even normally it wasn't the right match, too long and weighty compared to what he had trained with all those years ago. Still, he had been able to wield it well enough to kill two nekkers.

Jaskier was rather sure he wouldn't be able to replicate the outcome as he was.

"Oh, fuck," Jaskier mumbled as the wargs finally charged them.

He was going to die.

Geralt was going to die.

Roach was going to die.

They were all going to die.

Then there wasn't time to think.

One of the wargs did get trapped in the sign's power and Geralt was able to engage two of them. Last one managed to slip past the Witcher, heading straight to Jaskier. Roach gave a scared whiny and ran away as far as she could, still tethered to her long picket line.

The warg's teeth were far too long and sharp for its mouth Jaskier decided, gripped by the absurd thought born of fear.

He barely managed to avoid its charge by throwing himself to the side, surprised to stay on his feet.

The long dagger in his hand felt woefully tiny.

With a snarl the warg turned around, immediately launching into another attack. Sure that he wouldn't be fast enough to get out of the way for the second time or be able to use the dagger without its jaws reaching him, Jaskier dropped the dagger in favor of the silver sword. Just in time he managed to lift it up to parry the claws aimed at him. The strength of the impact made him almost drop the sword right away. Instead the claws only directed it to hit the ground.

But it gave him time to get out of the way again.

Everything had happened within seconds but Jaskier's arms were already screaming under the weight of the blade.

He had no idea how Geralt was doing.

Nothing existed but the warg.

Even it was getting blurry.

He felt like throwing up. Like curling into himself in fear. He couldn't do either. Not if he wanted to stay alive.

Which he did.

He didn't know if Geralt was alive.

The teeth were snapping at him again, there was no respite. He was so exhausted it was a miracle he was still clinging on. The seconds dragged on, endless. He would soon fall down simply from his body giving in, not even adrenaline enough to fuel him.

The moment it'd happen he'd be eaten.

The warg whined as Jaskier scratched its shoulder with the sword.

And doubled its ferocious attacks.

Jaskier couldn't even yell in pain, breath gone from exertion when the warg managed to pin him down on the ground.

Blood.

A heavy weight suddenly crushing him.

"Jaskier!"

The weight was just as suddenly removed as it had dropped on him.

"Jaskier, look at me!"

There was an angry snarl and a howl. They weren't getting closer.

"Jaskier, open your fucking eyes! Jaskier!"

Geralt. That was Geralt. The Witcher was alive.

Jaskier snapped his eyes open and just as promptly rolled onto his side to empty his stomach from its contents. It didn't make him feel better, only hurt more.

"Jaskier, I need to touch you. Check where and how badly you're hurt," Geralt said urgently, hands already hovering over him as he rolled onto his back again in hopes that it'd ease the pain.

"No, no, no," he was already hurting. He didn't want anything else to happen. He couldn't be touched.

There was a growl. It was Geralt this time.

"You get ten seconds to calm down while I kill the trapped warg while the sign still holds. Then I _have to_ touch you," Geralt stated quickly, voice strained.

And was gone.

And back again.

Jaskier didn't feel any calmer.

"Jaskier, either you or I have to open your doublet. Choose. Now," Geralt demanded.

As Jaskier's attempts to unfasten it failed due to his badly trembling fingers, Geralt grabbed the doublet and yanked it open in one move.

Only reason Jaskier realized that he was already crying was because he would have started otherwise.

The far too familiar terror joined the fear already wracking him.

"I'm going to touch your shoulders," Geralt informed him just before doing so.

Pain lanced through Jaskier the second Geralt's fingers probed one.

"No! Please, Geralt! Don't!" Jaskier cried out, trying to wriggle away from the painful touches.

He wasn't sure how much of it was only mental.

He didn't want hands on him.

"I'm sorry, Jaskier. I have to," Geralt apologized, sounding sincere. "I have to see the reason you're bleeding. You won't be able to do it yourself, not with the way it's both of your shoulders. The warg pinned you down by slamming its paws against them."

It made sense. "Don't- don't touch me!"

Jaskier couldn't stop the panic the unwanted and painful touches caused from building. He knew Geralt was right. He _knew_. It wasn't helping.

"Jaskier, you need to keep breathing. You're safe. I'm sorry I have to do this. I promise I'm not going to do anything I don't absolutely have to. I promise."

Geralt's voice was so very far away compared to the way Marden was running his hands up his chest, easing the doublet off.

_"Let's make you more comfortable."_

The king was gently cleaning his face.

_"That's better."_

There were fingers pushing hair away from his eyes.

_"Don't forget your promise."_

Everything turned soft and fuzzy.

"Calm."

Geralt's voice sounded strange, echoing.

Everything calmed down.

"Sleep."

Jaskier did.

Geralt hated himself the second he cast _Axii_ on Jaskier.

But he couldn't think of anything else to do, not with the way Jaskier had spiraled into what he was almost sure to be a flashback. He needed to treat the bard, stop the bleeding. The moment Jaskier fell asleep Geralt dashed to retrieve the medical bag and a waterskin.

…Shit. There went yet another piece of Jaskier's clothing.

Not that there was an alternative to partly ripping the chemise when he didn't yet know the severity of the wounds left from the warg's claws causing Jaskier's shoulders to bleed. He wasn't going to risk moving the bard's arms. Nor would he undress Jaskier.

Quickly cleaning the blood away revealed almost identical sets of short scratches ending into puncture wounds, the claws having dug in when Jaskier had been pinned down. The good news was that nothing was overly deep, nothing that wouldn't heal back to normal. Only a few stitches divided to both shoulders would be enough. No broken clavicles or other bones either. Killing the warg had made some of its blood get on Jaskier, making the visual worse than the reality.

It was a harder decision than it should be to check that Jaskier hadn't hit his head. It felt such a violation to run his fingers along Jaskier's scalp. Thankfully there weren't any signs of cuts or bumps.

Jaskier would be fine. In pain for some time but fine.

Physically at least.

Having finished treating the wounds, Geralt set out to roll out Jaskier's bedding, adding his own to make it softer to lay on. Both blankets too to combat the chill of the shock and blood loss. Trying to make things as comfortable as possible was the only thing he could do for now.

Gently lifting still slumbering Jaskier Geralt pressed their foreheads together for a moment, wishing hopelessly he'd be forgiven for what he had done.

He doubted it.

He had yet again hurt Jaskier, placed his hands on the bard without his consent. Despite Jaskier begging him not to touch him.

Taken his choice away, made him submit to his will.

"Forgive me, Jaskier," Geralt whispered, placing the blankets over the bard.

Not that he was deserving.

It was hard to make himself leave Jaskier's side to check on Roach, make sure the mare was unharmed and calm her down. Even harder not to go back to Jaskier's side immediately afterwards but there were warg carcasses to take care of. He couldn't just let those lay around their camp so one by one he carried them into the forest, checking on Jaskier between each trip. There was no change.

After dumping the last warg next to the others Geralt swiftly cut its head off and placed it in the sack he used for monster remains for proof of a job completed. Maybe there would be a reward for taking care of the beasts in the next village.

Finally done with everything he had to do, Geralt returned to Jaskier's side.

The first thing Jaskier was aware of was pain.

"Jaskier, are you awake?" Geralt asked in a strange tone.

"Mmhmm," Jaskier hummed, cracking his eyes open to a sliver. Geralt appeared to be sitting next to him.

"Here, drink," the Witcher said, presenting a waterskin. "Do you want me to help you sit? Or hold it?"

"No!" Jaskier snapped, not exactly sure where the vehemence was stemming from. Everything was still a bit muddled. But he absolutely didn't want to be touched, that he was sure of.

"I won't," Geralt promised, voice almost small before explaining the situation. "Jaskier, both of your shoulders are hurt, scratches going down and ending in punctures little below the clavicles. It's not very serious and you can move your arms but you need to be cautious and not strain yourself. I didn't check but you definitely have bruising on your back too. And it's the next morning."

"Okay," Jaskier acknowledged, trying to sit up.

It was far more difficult than it should with the way he had to use his arms despite the news to achieve it and the general exhaustion dragging him down. If the thought of being touched didn't make his skin crawl almost painfully, he would have asked Geralt to help.

Done with drinking Jaskier gave the waterskin back to Geralt and lowered himself gingerly onto the bedroll. His memories were finally starting to sort themselves out. Including the sudden stop of the flashback.

"Geralt, did you _Axii_ me?" Jaskier asked, tone perfectly neutral.

"Yes," Geralt admitted instantly.

"Hmm," Jaskier wasn't sure at all what to think about it. He had asked for it before, would have welcomed it. Now that it had happened, without his permission at that, he didn't know how to react.

"I'm sorry, Jaskier," Geralt said sincerely. "I wish I didn't have to do it."

"Mmhmm," Jaskier couldn't bring himself to say it was alright.

He wasn't sure it was. At all.

"Is there anything I can do?" Geralt asked, face drawn.

Jaskier shook his head, not knowing how to tell the Witcher that he was too close for comfort. He didn't want Geralt to move, not really, the lack of distance just bothered him. It shouldn't. Geralt still seemed to realize it anyway since he sat back down farther away than before after retrieving a painkiller for him.

As the pain receded Jaskier found his eyelids to be incredibly heavy.

"...Don't touch me…" Jaskier murmured just before slipping back to sleep.

Rest of the day passed quickly, hours disappearing as Jaskier slept most of the time. He was so drained, so hollow again. He didn't fight his mind and body's need for rest, only welcomed the oblivion.

Jaskier knew he should talk to Geralt about what had happened. Knew the Witcher was beating himself up over it. He couldn't, it was too raw and he was too exhausted. Jaskier could only hope Geralt wasn't taking his silence as a punishment for his actions.

It wasn't.

He just couldn't start the conversation.

Couldn't do much more than keep breathing and try not to cry. Try not to think about how much more Geralt's actions hurt than the wounds.

It was closer to noon when Jaskier woke up after another restless night, feeling a bit more alive. Quick survey of his surroundings showed Roach grazing peacefully and Geralt staring at the mare pensively. Jaskier stood up with stiff legs and staggered ungracefully to sit closer to Geralt, drawing the stare to himself. Clutching a blanket to his chest felt such a childish thing to do but he needed something to cover his ripped clothes and draping it over his shoulders without lifting his arms felt like too much trouble to be worth it.

"We need to talk," Jaskier stated as a greeting. He couldn't avoid doing this any longer despite not feeling ready in the least.

"Hmmm."

"I don't resent you, Geralt," Jaskier said immediately, wanting the Witcher to stop worrying about it. "Nor do I hate you. My feelings haven't changed."

Silence was his only answer.

"I don't want you to hate yourself either. You did what you deemed necessary," Jaskier continued, fidgeting with a new bead necklace. The previous one had met its demise at the warg attack. It was no wonder Geralt had been so frantic. It wouldn't have taken much for him too to have met his demise had the claws sliced into his neck. The dried blood on his doublet definitely made it look like he had had a severed artery.

"Hnn."

"Geralt, I'm just…"

"Afraid," Geralt finished his sentence.

Jaskier wished Geralt wasn't right. It was an ugly feeling, being cautious of the Witcher.

Again.

He had to carefully untangle his hands from the beads or risk snapping the cord.

"...I don't want to be," Jaskier whispered, having to avert his eyes.

"I know," Geralt sighed. "Jaskier, I don't blame you for being scared of me."

"Geralt, no. It's not you as a person I'm scared of. Never _you_ ," if only the Witcher would believe him, to not think the tremor in his voice was caused by lying. "I… I'm afraid almost all the time. It's just wo-worse at the moment."

Don't cry. Don't cry. Don't cry.

"Makes the fear… echo. I know you'd never hurt me on purpose without a good reason. Saving me is a good reason."

"Echo?" Geralt's guilty frown turned into a puzzled one.

"Mmhmm. Echo. Or cling. I'm so on edge that everything sends ripples of fear back to me. Even safe things," Jaskier wasn't sure if that made it any easier to understand. "Even you."

"Jaskier, is there anything I can do to help?" Geralt asked, looking and sounding so sincere it made Jaskier's heart ache.

"...Don't promise me to never do something from now on. There's always an exception, better for both of us if you don't have to break your promises," Jaskier said before pausing in an attempt to keep his emotions in check. It didn't work. Tears accompanied his next words. "And… Let me have some distance. I- I need to… to… I'm sorry… I can't…"

"Jaskier, I won't get close to you if you don't want me to," Geralt said softly. The words surely tasted like acid on the Witcher's tongue.

"I _want_ you close. Always do, always will. I just can't handle it right now."

Just how vast was Jaskier's heart for the bard to still not reject him? And just what had he done to inspire such devotion?

Absolutely nothing, Geralt knew. Absolutely nothing.

"Geralt, I… I wish I could say what you did is alright," Jaskier continued, trying uselessly to wipe tears away. "But it's not, not yet. I think it will. I understand why you did it and don't blame you."

"Geralt, don't you dare to blame yourself either," Jaskier added as forcefully as the tears let him.

The bard knew him far too well.

"Hmmm."

"Do not," Jaskier stressed before falling silent. After getting his tears under control the bard talked again. "Can I borrow your cloak? I guess removing my ripped clothes by myself would move my arms in an undesirable way?"

"Of course you can," it was the least he could do for Jaskier. "It should be alright to move your arms around like that but you'd run the risk of opening something. Tomorrow should be fine."

"Cloak it is then. I just want to cover myself," Jaskier decided. "Could we travel on too? We lost a whole day because of me."

"Jaskier, your health is more important than making good time," Geralt grumbled, displeased by the disregard the bard was again showing for his own well-being.

Jaskier just gave a noncommittal sound.

Taking note of the paleness and dark bruises under Jaskier's eyes Geralt sighed. "Next village. It's close enough."

Jaskier would sleep better in an inn room.

And there was a rotting warg head in a bag.

The inn they rented a room from was not even close to the quality of Brajan's but that one had been the exception. The creaky floors and stench of old ale were as familiar as the innkeeper glaring at him, clearly considering whether or not he'd let a Witcher stay. In the end money was stronger than the man's prejudice.

"Why can't my shoes have laces?" Jaskier lamented, trying to carefully ease them off but giving up when they didn't budge from the first few gentle tugs.

Geralt wished he could help.

"Jaskier, would you be alright if I went to find out if there's a reward for killing the wargs?" Maybe the bard wanted to have actual distance from him, not only walk separated by Roach.

Jaskier whirled to look at him, eyes shuttered. "If you want to go."

"Are you saying that because you're afraid to disagree?" Geralt asked, gripped by the thought suddenly.

"No."

Geralt didn't know whether or not to believe. For someone who wore his heart on his sleeve Jaskier sure knew how to lie when it suited the bard. It had taken him a long time to realize that with the way Jaskier often got flustered when accused of things instead of cooly denying everything.

"We can do it together tomorrow if you want to," Geralt offered, hoping having different options clearly presented would make the bard answer honestly.

"You can go," Jaskier repeated, expression and voice just as carefully neutral.

"Okay, I'll be fast. Won't take long with the size of this village. Probably no more than half an hour," It wasn't an easy choice to make but it'd be better to accept Jaskier's decision instead of overruling it. He had taken action against Jaskier's will too much already.

"Jaskier, you're safe here. Nothing will happen while I'm away," Geralt said, taking the remains bag holding the warg head.

"Don't make promises you can't be sure of," Jaskier stated.

Shit. Jaskier's trust in things, him, had taken a hit. Using _Axii_ without permission after vehemently declaring that he'd never use the sign on the bard had been a fucking stupid move. He should have thought about something else to do. Not acted on instinct.

"You're as safe as you can be," Geralt amended, unwilling to start a deeper discussion.

"Mmhmm."

Geralt hoped he hadn't only imagined the softening of Jaskier's tone.

It didn't take long despite the late hours to find out that there indeed had been a reward for killing the wargs. It wasn't a particularly hefty sum but more than enough to cover the night at the inn, warm meals and breakfast for tomorrow morning. Something at least had turned out fine. Those were rare occasions made even rarer lately.

Geralt wasn't exactly sure what he had expected when he stepped back into their room but seeing Jaskier laying underneath a blanket on the bed was nothing surprising. There was a lingering scent of salt in the air, testament to the distress the bard had felt while alone in an unfamiliar place.

"I got paid. Feel up to going downstairs to eat?" Geralt greeted the bard, reminding himself not to go to Jaskier's side, to not go check on how he was doing. He couldn't do so before Jaskier told him it was fine again.

"...No…?" the faint answer was more of a question than anything.

Not what Geralt had wanted to hear. "Okay. I'll bring food here then."

"Mmhmm."

"Jaskier, how are you doing?" asking should still be okay.

"...Fine."

Geralt couldn't stop the pang of hurt being shut out caused, no matter how much he deserved it. He had no idea how to start making things right between them again. Not that there probably was anything for him to do except for giving Jaskier time, space, and respect his decisions.

Hope for the best.

He really had acted terrible in his haste to determine the severity of the wounds. Why the _fuck_ had he thought ripping Jaskier's clothing open while the bard was laying helplessly on the ground was an acceptable solution? Of _fucking course_ it had made Jaskier to have a flashback. Of _fucking course_ Jaskier couldn't let himself be touched after he had done that. It was hard to think of anything more threatening he could have done without laying his hands on Jaskier. Which he also had done in a manner of speaking.

And that fucking _Axii_.

Why Jaskier wasn't breaking up with him and telling him to go to hell was a mystery.

Wearing clean and intact clothes again felt good. Or rather, wearing a clean and intact doublet over the ripped and filthy chemise. It just seemed more practical. Jaskier had no inclination to shed everything to be able to treat the wounds and the ripped neckline would make it possible. The completely buttoned doublet would hide the shirt from view anyway.

And the borrowed cloak gave one more layer of protection.

Needing it was so pathetic.

"Don't destroy this doublet," Jaskier blurted out after riding in silence for almost an hour since leaving the inn.

"I won't," Geralt said, sounding slightly weirded out.

"It's my last unscathed one," Jaskier explained. "There's one, the ink ruined, that might be salvageable if the sleeves are changed but I'm running out of clothing."

"Hmmm."

Geralt sounded guilty. He should. He shouldn't. Jaskier wasn't sure.

There wasn't much else to say.

So he didn't.

It took another hour for the silence to be disrupted, speaker being Geralt this time. "Let's take a break."

"Mmhmm."

Jaskier hated how awkward their coexistence had suddenly turned into. He wished that he could put what had happened behind himself. To be done with it already and continue on like it had never happened at all. He knew Geralt had had his best interests in mind, hadn't meant to do any harm. Hadn't wanted to break his trust. Wouldn't have done any of it if the Witcher had seen an alternative.

But it hurt.

The violent way Geralt had undressed him, even though it had been just the outer layer and a ripped shirt.

The way Geralt had used _Axii_ without permission. After swearing to never use it no matter what.

It hurt.

He was tired of hurting. So tired.

"Two months," Jaskier mumbled stinging eyes closed, leaning against a tree. "Two months today."

"Yes," Geralt agreed.

"Feels like both a lifetime and a blink of an eye," Jaskier continued quietly. "I don't want to keep counting the days. I don't want to know exactly how long ago my life crumbled to dust. But I can't stop."

"Jaskier…"

"It did. It really did. Marden took almost everything from me, leaving just a shadow behind," Jaskier said, fighting against bitter tears. "A shadow of who I was."

"Jaskier, you're still you. Nothing can change that. You're just hurt," Geralt disagreed. Jaskier could almost feel his stare.

"Just hurt. That's a sweet sentiment," Jaskier sighed. "Makes it sound like I'll heal and things will go back to how they were. But I doubt it. Even if the wounds would close someday I think they'll leave too deep scars. If they close at all."

"They will," Geralt said resolutely. "And even scars fade with time."

That was true. Jaskier couldn't make himself believe it. He hadn't even had the strength to check if he had scars on his left sole from the porcelain shards. Not knowing was better than learning he was carrying visible marks on his skin.

Gods, he wanted to be hugged.

Instead Jaskier drew Geralt's cloak tighter around himself, hoping it'd make him feel better.

It didn't.

Everything still felt just as bleak and uncertain. Frightening.

He was so sick of being afraid.

If only he could turn his emotions off.

"Here."

Opening his eyes Jaskier saw Geralt offering him a hard biscuit.

"Thanks," Jaskier hoped Geralt knew the tiny twitch of lips was meant to be a smile. It just refused to form.

With that Geralt gently lobbed the biscuit to Jaskier's lap with perfect accuracy. The Witcher was truly following the request of not getting close.

That made Jaskier feel slightly better. Re-enforced the knowledge that Geralt did respect his boundaries, wouldn't normally do anything like what had happened. Needing to test Geralt's willingness to follow his lead felt like a cruel thing to do but Jaskier knew things would get worse if he returned to the closeness they had shared before being able to completely trust Geralt again.

Knowing wasn't enough.

It was strange, truly trusting Geralt with everything but this. With physical closeness. It was so wrong. Jaskier wanted the chasm, the dichotomy, gone. Wanted to feel completely at ease, completely safe in Geralt's company. He would eventually. The river incident hadn't broken his trust irreparably and neither would this. He just needed a little more time to sort his thoughts and emotions out.

"Let's continue," Jaskier said, getting up and waiting for Geralt to start leading Roach before starting to walk.

The mare was such a sweetheart, not caring they were making her travel between them, acting like a living barrier.

Jaskier had hoped the next day would have brought the end to his caution and the frustrating dance he and Geralt were executing around each other. At least he had felt a bit better, both physically and mentally. Some of the steps in their dance had taken them to the right direction.

And far enough that he was currently debating whether or not to go sit next to Geralt for breakfast.

Mind made, Jaskier lowered himself to the ground close enough that Geralt could just about brush his fingers against him if the Witcher leaned over to do so.

"Hand me the plate, please?" Jaskier requested almost as a challenge, staring in Geralt's eyes.

He was finally ready to start bridging the gap between them.

There was clear recognition in Geralt's expression. The Witcher knew what he was doing, attempting to do.

"Here," Geralt said, offering the plate while carefully keeping his fingers from touching Jaskier's.

"Thank you, Geralt," for waiting for me.

"Hmmm."

Jaskier wished he could let Geralt help him out with the wounds after breakfast. Removing stitches by himself was a bitch regardless of how accomplished at it he was. He could happily live without having so much practice with it from all the times he had done it for the Witcher.

It really was nice to be in better health than last time he had been injured. Not getting sick from the added stress was a huge relief. It'd be even better if he could stop getting hurt. It was frustrating how badly he reacted to danger now, slowing him down even more and making it hard to concentrate on the immediate threat in a productive manner.

Maybe that too would return to normal eventually. Be more thrilling than terrifying most of the time again.

It was great managing to be slightly more positive, to see that there was a chance at least.

"I'm ready to go," Jaskier declared, adjusting the borrowed cloak to cover him better.

This time Jaskier didn't need Roach to separate him from Geralt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> O H!! N O!!!!


	86. Chapter 86

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: For dehumanizing language used at Geralt aka refusal to use pronouns for humans.
> 
> Starts after:  
> "Uh, evening. Might I trade my bardic services for a room and meals for us?" Jaskier asked the innkeeper as they reached the counter, doing his best to keep his voice steady and hands from fidgeting with the beads.
> 
> Ends: "Oh, we'll get out by ourselves, fucking rat bastard!" Jaskier snarled, stomping toward the exit. Just as he was stepping out Jaskier hurled one more insult over his shoulder. "I hope this filthy shack will collapse on you under the weight of all the shit you spout!"

If someone had told him before all this that he'd be content enough with a dull and mostly silent day of traveling, Jaskier would have laughed. Silence nor boredom were something he liked. They were closer to abhorrent than anything. Too similar to loneliness.

Yet here he was, sitting silently next to Geralt staring at the campfire and the unfortunate squirrel roasting above it after such a day. Even during their early dinner Jaskier couldn't bring himself to say more than the expected thank yous and pleases.

It felt like he was made of exhaustion.

And craving.

"Geralt… Can I- Could I touch your hand?" Jaskier asked quietly, turning to look at the Witcher.

"Yes," Geralt breathed. "Yes, Jaskier."

…Just how badly had he hurt Geralt with his inability to let him get close or even speak much for days for the Witcher to look so hopeful?

Gods, he was so _selfish_.

Should have tried harder.

Been kinder.

Geralt's hand was resting against the ground between them as Jaskier slowly stroked it with his fingertips, trying his best to recognize any reaction he might have. The gentle contact wasn't frightening.

"Hold my hand?" Jaskier requested hesitantly. Such a small and innocent gesture wasn't supposed to feel this huge, especially at this point of their relationship.

"Gladly," Geralt said, turning his hand so Jaskier could link their fingers together.

Geralt's hand was still warm and as familiar as his own. It melted some of the ice from Jaskier's heart.

"I'm sorry I hurt you," Jaskier whispered, tightening his grip.

"What?" Geralt asked, looking genuinely perplexed.

"I pushed you away. Still can't go back to how we were. It's getting better but I just… can't. I'm sorry I keep hurting you with my weakness," Jaskier explained, wanting to make clear this was his fault and not anything Geralt was doing. "You're so wonderful, so good to me yet all I give you in return is pain."

"No. Jaskier, you're not doing that. _I_ hurt you, might just as well have cut you open with my sword. I should have known better. I know better," Geralt protested heatedly. "I broke your trust. Badly. Deeply. I should have thought of something else, not rip your clothes open and use mind control."

"Forgive me, Jaskier," Geralt finished sincerely.

Jaskier had never heard Geralt say that. Not to anyone.

"I…"

Geralt stayed still and silent while Jaskier took the time to gather his thoughts. The Witcher deserved complete honesty.

"I… I forgive you, Geralt," Jaskier said, finally sure of his answer.

Geralt gave a relieved sigh, briefly squeezing his hand. For only a second before relaxing his grip again. To only convey his gratefulness.

"Thank you, Jaskier."

"Geralt, I hope you know that I won't be able to get over what happened right away even now. Like I said, I don't resent you, don't hate you, don't really blame you either. But I'm not that strong," Jaskier said, wishing it wasn't so.

It was terribly hard to admit but… "You're right, you did hurt me. Deeply. I trust you, Geralt. So much, so very much. It only makes what happened worse since I never thought you'd do anything like that."

They really needed to talk this through properly, not just slap a bandage over it and hope for the best. Jaskier wasn't going to let the tears or the guilt of admitting being hurt by Geralt to hold him back from clearing the air. It was necessary if they wanted things to work between them.

And Jaskier did, very much and absolutely.

"I know. Jaskier, I understand if you never will be able to look at me the same way as before or if you want to leave. What I did was terrible," Geralt said seriously. "Your forgiveness is more than I deserve."

"Let me decide whether or not you're worthy of my forgiveness since it's mine to give. You have a bad habit of undervaluing yourself, Geralt," Jaskier countered. "Speaking of that, you need to tell me when I'm hurting you instead of silently bearing it. I'm not self-aware enough to realize it every time or fast enough. Just because my head is still a fucked up mess doesn't mean I'm not accountable for my actions."

"The last thing I want to do is to hurt you, Geralt," he added sincerely, wiping a few stray tears away.

Frustratingly Geralt shook his head. "You're not doing that."

Rubbing at his temples Jaskier wished the building headache would stay away for long enough to finish the conversation. "So the emotional and physical distance between us is fine with you then?"

"..."

"Exactly. It hurts you. _I_ hurt you with it. Geralt, you need to start speaking up about such things. Don't always wait for me to bring the issues up," Jaskier said. "I know emotions and feelings are difficult to you, especially your own, but please, open up to me about them. I want to be here for you. I can't… I can't promise I'll be able to do it as well as I should but… Let me in, Geralt."

"Jaskier…"

"I have given you my heart. Would you show me yours?"

The Witcher looked almost cornered with the wide eyes and the subtle shift of his weight to make running at second's notice easier.

Hopefully it all was subconscious reactions.

"I-" Geralt started, voice strained. "Jaskier, I don't know how. But I- I love you. For you I'm willing to learn."

For the first time in days Jaskier smiled, heart swelling with love.

They'd be alright.

"Thank you, Geralt. That's all I want. I love you too and I'm so sorry for how I've acted the past days," Jaskier said, relieved. "I'll do my best not to shut you out like that again."

"You had all the right," Geralt stated.

"Maybe, maybe not," Jaskier shrugged. "Doesn't change the fact that I hate doing it and you shouldn't have to suffer it. I know it's not a healthy way to deal with things in general either. We both know how well avoidance worked for me. It's just a hard habit to shake since I've used it more or less for all of my life."

Seeing Geralt narrow his eyes Jaskier chided him. "Don't look at me like that. You suppress everything, I sweep things under a rug. You do not have the high ground here."

"Hmmm."

Jaskier was right. He really didn't have a leg to stand on regarding the issue. Still, he didn't have to like the way the bard kept ignoring or downplaying his own problems so often.

Geralt couldn't shake the feeling Jaskier was doing exactly that with this.

Jaskier had told him things wouldn't be returning to how they had been for some time but it still didn't seem right, not with the way he had betrayed Jaskier's trust. Stomped and spat on it. Being forgiven at all felt almost wrong, no matter how badly he had wished for it. He had done nothing to earn it yet Jaskier still accepted his apology.

Geralt knew he didn't deserve Jaskier's love.

Jaskier gave it to him anyway.

Gave away his heart.

Only to have it broken repeatedly.

Yet somehow Jaskier still managed to be fearless in his love.

Geralt had to fight against the urge to clutch Jaskier's hand still linked with his in an attempt to make himself believe the bard really was still here with him. Kept giving him second chances time and time again.

He was so unworthy of Jaskier's devotion.

"Thank you," Geralt said softly.

"For what?" Jaskier asked, clearly confused.

"...For being you," this was embarrassing but he had promised to try sharing more. There wasn't much else he could offer.

"Oh, Geralt. You really say the sweetest things when I least expect it," Jaskier said with a small smile.

It was a beautiful sight.

Geralt didn't want to disturb the peaceful moment they were sharing after such a long time but it was starting to get late. He couldn't stifle a dismayed sigh as he let go of Jaskier's hand in favor of getting their bedrolls and spreading them out. Hopefully the bard knew that he tried to show his love with small gestures and wasn't doing such things because he thought him helpless.

"Geralt, you can place yours a bit closer to mine," Jaskier offered, watching him.

Jaskier really was trying his hardest to repair things between them.

"That's good," Jaskier nodded when the bedrolls were close enough to each other that the bard could reach out to brush his fingers against Geralt if he so desired.

"Hmmm."

Jaskier didn't try to touch him but it did make it easier to calm him down from the aftereffects of yet another nightmare. Each muffled cry shot right through Geralt's chest, making him feel so powerless. He could only talk to Jaskier and that had never been something he had been good at. Could only try even though it might not be enough.

The days following their conversation were slowly getting better, both of them taking steps toward each other again. It felt so much more than he deserved. Jaskier truly might have forgiven him but Geralt wasn't sure if he could do the same. What he had done felt unforgivable, something that was even worse than the time he had restrained the bard.

Jaskier had asked him to open up more about things that bothered him but Geralt was determined to never let the bard know that he'd be carrying the guilt of his actions to the grave. Keep it as a reminder and a warning to never repeat it. To never again hurt Jaskier like that, break his trust in such a fundamental way.

To never hurt Jaskier again would be impossible. But maybe, just maybe, he'd be able to rein himself in better from now on.

"Geralt, I'd like to perform tonight, try to bargain us a room and hopefully meals too," Jaskier informed the Witcher as they were unsaddling Roach in a stable belonging to an inn they were planning to stay at. "Will you …guard… me?"

It was a frightening thought, performing in an unfamiliar place. He hadn't played in front of an audience since the last night at Brajan's inn. But slinging a lute over his shoulder didn't hurt anymore and they needed to stretch their money as much as possible. Earn more.

And Jaskier simply wanted to perform. It had been so long since last time.

"Of course I will," Geralt huffed, grabbing the saddlebags leaving only the lute case for Jaskier.

"Thanks."

There was nothing wrong with the inn as they stepped in but Jaskier felt like he had entered a den of lions ready to tear him apart. It was so frustrating, being still so afraid of people after all this time. It felt like there was something broken in him with the way he didn't seem to improve. Kept stumbling over the same things over and over again. He just wanted to be done with all this shit.

"Uh, evening. Might I trade my bardic services for a room and meals for us?" Jaskier asked the innkeeper as they reached the counter, doing his best to keep his voice steady and hands from fidgeting with the beads.

Innkeeper's expression turned sour as she stared at Geralt. "Not for that."

Did she just…?

"Excuse me?" Jaskier exclaimed, taken aback.

"I don't serve mutants," the woman said, looking like she wanted to spit on Geralt. "Those aren't welcome here."

"Stop being such an ass dressed like a horse! How dare you say that to Geralt? You're no better than he is! Worse actually!" Jaskier seethed, anger rising suddenly.

"Jaskier, let it go," Geralt cautioned behind him.

"Petr! Get these out of here," the innkeeper yelled and almost immediately a large muscular man stood up from a nearby table.

"Oh, we'll get out by ourselves, fucking rat bastard!" Jaskier snarled, stomping toward the exit. Just as he was stepping out Jaskier hurled one more insult over his shoulder. "I hope this filthy shack will collapse on you under the weight of all the shit you spout!"

They were back in the stable before Geralt spoke. "What the hell was that?"

"She- You heard her!" Jaskier snapped, chest heaving. He was suddenly so fucking angry. At the innkeeper. At the injustice Geralt faced constantly. At the world. At everything that had happened since the feast. His blood was roaring with fury.

Without thinking Jaskier punched the wall with a wordless yell.

It didn't make him feel better.

"Jaskier!" Geralt shouted, sounding shocked. If the Witcher hadn't said anything, Jaskier would have hit the wall again.

Instead he braced himself against it, the angry pants starting to turn into bitter sobs. He was so sick of everything, the casual cruelty of people, feeling like shit and broken constantly, not being able to be what Geralt deserved. Always falling short. Having his emotions fluctuate faster than he could keep up.

"Jaskier, what's wrong? Talk to me," Geralt asked calmly, hay shuffling under his boots as the Witcher took a step toward him before stopping.

"Every-fucking-thing," Jaskier choked out.

"Can you walk out of here or do you want to get on Roach? We need to leave right now," Geralt said abruptly, turning around and starting to saddle the mare with haste.

"...Roach…" Jaskier mumbled, sure he wouldn't be fast enough to avoid whatever mob was gathering. There had to be a reason for Geralt's urgency.

In no time at all Geralt was leading them out of the village at brisk jog bordering on running, Roach trotting alongside and Jaskier trying to keep his emotions in check while riding her. He failed spectacularly, tears drying for good only a little before they finally slowed down to walk, far away from the settlement.

It had turned dark long ago when Geralt was finally satisfied with the distance and had found a campsite.

Guessing the Witcher wouldn't mind, Jaskier headed to what looked vaguely like a smooth spot on the ground and sat down. It was too dark for him to be much use and he was too exhausted, too hollow, to even offer his help.

Soon enough there was a fire lighting their nook up, letting Jaskier watch as Geralt took care of everything.

He should ask if Geralt wanted help.

He stayed silent.

The food Geralt brought kept choking him, making it impossible to eat.

"What's going on? Talk to me, Jaskier."

It was kind of Geralt not to ask until now.

"...I'm not sure. I just got suddenly really angry," Jaskier said, shifting the weighted blanket to cover himself better where he was laying on his bedroll. "I hate it when people act like that toward you."

"I lost control," it was a painful addition.

"Jaskier, you don't have to start fights to protect my honor," there was a hint of amusement in Geralt's tone before the Witcher continued more seriously. "I'm used to those reactions. They're nothing to sweat over, you know that. You could get hurt by some retaliation."

"Thank you for reminding me of my uselessness," Jaskier muttered, draping an arm over his eyes. The firelight was aggravating his headache.

"Not what I meant," Geralt huffed. "You've always had a knack of getting yourself into trouble."

"I know, that's what caused all of this in the first place," Jaskier grumbled, both irritated and defeated.

"Stop twisting my words," Geralt stated, tone carefully controlled.

It still made Jaskier flinch. "I'm sorry."

"It's fine. Just do your best to think things through before acting," Geralt said. "Did you hurt your hand?"

That took surprisingly long. The Witcher had probably caught glimpses of it and deemed there wasn't anything badly wrong.

"Not any worse than the previous times," Jaskier shrugged, not interested in the topic in the least. "Might have some splinters. I'll check tomorrow when it gets light."

"I can do it for you now," Geralt offered.

"...Okay…" it was true, darkness wasn't a problem for the Witcher.

"Jaskier, you don't have to agree. It's fine if you prefer doing it by yourself," Geralt said, probably worried he was blindly saying yes.

It took Jaskier a few seconds to determine he really was okay with the idea of Geralt helping him. "You can do it."

Geralt's answer was to get up and return with pincers and disinfectant.

"Ready?" Geralt asked, holding his hand out for Jaskier to take it.

"Yeah," Jaskier sighed, letting Geralt start moving his fingers to make sure everything was working normally and to remove splinters left from the roughly sanded plank.

It was okay.

Letting Geralt touch him for prolonged time and occasionally cause stinging pain when removing something or dabbing broken skin with disinfectant didn't make his skin crawl or anxiety surge.

It was a relief.

The Witcher was efficient with his treatment, finishing much faster than Jaskier himself would have been able to. Geralt was about to let go of his hand too soon so Jaskier squeezed Geralt's for a second before loosening his grip.

"You want to keep holding hands?" Geralt checked.

At Jaskier's nod he let their fingers intertwine.

Seeing his bruised hand in the morning light Jaskier decided that he really needed to stop hitting inanimate objects. He'd probably run out of luck at some point and break a bone or two but it was a problem for another day.

"Geralt, you can have your cloak back," Jaskier said, walking toward the Witcher making them breakfast.

As Jaskier stopped in front of Geralt to remove it, Geralt's expression told him that the Witcher understood the gesture meant more than just returning a piece of clothing.

"There's a river coming up. If you want we can look for a suitable spot for swimming," Geralt informed, drawing Jaskier out of his thoughts.

" _Yes_ ," Jaskier breathed. "Yes, please."

It was a surprise Geralt and Roach weren't making him walk downwind with the way he reeked. There hadn't been suitable streams for swimming and bathing normally was still out of the question, as much as Jaskier hated the fact. There was only so much he could do by splashing water on himself while fully clothed.

It was a relief Geralt found a place he liked soon after the river came into view. The Witcher however seemed much less thrilled when Jaskier once again had to be stopped from wading into the water before the lack of monsters and other threats had been checked.

It just didn't feel as important to wait for it as finally getting clean.

The first time Jaskier dived made him feel like a layer of invisible filth was washing away with the sweat and dust.

The peace of swimming shattered as Jaskier realized how long his hair had gotten when it plastered to his forehead the moment he resurfaced. He'd have to do something about it. He didn't want to touch it. He didn't want it to stay this long. He couldn't let Geralt help him. He wasn't sure if he could do it by himself. Anxiety rising Jaskier let himself submerge again, hoping being enveloped by the water would help with the cold feeling in his chest. It didn't. Holding his breath only made things worse. Panting, Jaskier hurried out of the water knowing staying in would be beyond dangerous if his anxiety turned into a panic attack. He had no inclination to drown because he couldn't breath or stay upright.

"What's wrong?" Geralt asked the moment he realized that Jaskier wasn't getting out because he was ready.

"Hair," Jaskier managed to say between the forced breaths. "Too long."

Out of all the reasons to teeter on the edge of a panic attack too long hair felt so pathetic.

He couldn't let his hair stay overgrown a minute longer, had avoided doing anything to it for far too long.

"Can I do something?" Geralt offered urgently.

"No," Jaskier couldn't help how clipped his answer was, he was too focused on pushing the panic down and fishing the haircut kit out of his saddlebag.

"Tell me if it changes," Geralt said resolutely. "And come to the fire. Waters are starting to get chillier again. Staying too long in wet clothes isn't a good idea."

Jaskier complied. He could just as well take care of his hair there.

Even the first touch of the comb felt like someone was scratching his scalp with nails. Jaskier had absolutely no idea what his hair looked like as he kept cutting it with trembling hands. He didn't have the energy to worry about it.

It didn't take long for the coppery tang of blood to hit his tongue as he bit his lip too hard.

"Jaskier, you're alright. There's nothing to be afraid of. You're safe," Geralt assured him, definitely smelling the blood. "You need to calm down."

"Uh-huh."

Nothing was alright.

Breathing was hard and his eyes were stinging.

At one point Jaskier managed to accidentally cut himself in his haste to tend to the back of his head heedless of the awkward angle. He could almost feel the way Geralt tensed as the smell of blood intensified for the Witcher.

"You need to slow down. You're hurting yourself, Jaskier," Geralt said tersely, hands forming fists.

Jaskier wanted to reassure Geralt that it truly was just a small scratch, that he wasn't doing it on purpose. He didn't have the air to do so.

"Jaskier, you have finished," Geralt stated after a while. "Your hair is fine again."

"It's not… It's not…" Jaskier mumbled, continuing to shear his hair.

"It is. Jaskier, give me the scissors," Geralt instructed evenly, reaching out palm up. "Trust me."

That was a bigger request, trusting Geralt, than it had been before.

Haltingly Jaskier lowered the scissors and dropped them on Geralt's waiting hand.

"Thank you," Geralt said softly.

Hugging himself Jaskier attempted to regain his breath and quell the panic still churning in his stomach, threatening to swallow him down. Vaguely he registered Geralt standing up and walking away from him only to return with a blanket, towel, and fresh clothes.

"Jaskier, you need to change your clothes. I'll leave you to it, okay," Geralt explained as he placed everything close to Jaskier. "Can you do it?"

"...Ye-Yeah…" Jaskier mumbled, reaching for the towel with a shaking hand.

It should feel incredibly patronizing, being told to change clothes and asked if he could even do it, but instead Jaskier felt slightly more grounded having a concrete and simple task to focus on. To be told to do something he could affect, something that drew him out of his own head.

Looking around for the first time since getting in the water Jaskier saw Geralt was walking into the nearby crop of trees to give him privacy. The Witcher wouldn't turn around, wouldn't return, wouldn't look, until given permission.

That Jaskier was sure of.

It was a heartwarming surprise when Jaskier noticed Geralt had brought him one of his shirts to make up for the lack of a pristine doublet.

"I'm ready. You can come back, Geralt," Jaskier said, voice thin.

"Feeling better?" Geralt asked, frown on his brow and a worried glint in his eyes.

"I am," it was the truth. Only cold he was feeling was from sitting around in dripping garments.

"I'm glad," Geralt said sincerely, sitting down again just out of arm reach.

"You can sit here," Jaskier offered, patting the ground next to him. "You don't have to stay so far away if you don't want to."

"Thanks," the worry on Geralt's face turned into a fleeting smile, warming Jaskier more than the fire in front of him.

"I'm sorry I panicked. I didn't mean to cut myself or worry you," Jaskier said tiredly, looking at the Witcher. "I… I kind of lost the grip on reality the moment hair stuck to my forehead."

Geralt gave a heavy sigh at the explanation. For some reason it wasn't a disappointed one.

"Will you let me check if I can see the wound? I promise not to touch," Geralt asked, sounding almost hesitant.

Jaskier couldn't stop himself from tensing up and instantly clutching his beads.

"You don't have to agree. Jaskier, you can say no. I won't look if you don't want me to," Geralt continued soothingly.

It was a strange tone to associate with the Witcher despite all this time.

Being assured of having a choice helped. Jaskier wanted to believe Geralt meant it honestly. That he wouldn't touch, wouldn't even look, if told not to. Wouldn't decide his protests were nothing to care about.

It made it easier. "You can check. Just do not touch me at all, not even a brush no matter how fleeting."

"I won't touch you," Geralt promised again as Jaskier turned around so the Witcher could look at the back of his head.

"It's just a small scratch. Your hair is short enough at that spot to see it," Geralt told him, sounding satisfied with the discovery. "The dried blood will flake off by itself if you don't want to wash it away or remove it with fingers."

"That spot…?" Jaskier asked cautiously, not exactly sure if he wanted to hear how much damage he had done.

"It's not evenly cut," Geralt said neutrally. It was foreboding.

"Absolutely horrible then," Jaskier muttered, both yearning and dreading to card hands through his hair to feel the new cut. He refrained from doing it. Mirror would do the trick once he actually wanted to see it or his own face.

"You've had better ones."

The diplomatic answer was enough to make Jaskier snort in amusement.

It was probably for the best Jaskier hadn't checked his new hair during the past two days they had been traveling. Jaskier seemed to have grown a conflicted relationship with his looks, something Geralt was sure he wouldn't be able to fully understand even if Jaskier would speak about it at some point. But the bard's reaction to seeing how bad the haircut looked definitely wouldn't be positive. Not that Geralt cared about how it was cut. Jaskier was handsome regardless of how unflattering his hair was. Would be beautiful no matter what might happen, even if he'd be disfigured for some reason.

"Jaskier, let's not travel tomorrow. It's been a while since we took a day off," Geralt said, bringing himself back to reality.

"No, there's no reason for it. We can go on just like usual," Jaskier protested immediately. That topic at least the bard wasn't shy to disagree with.

"This is a good place to stay for now," Geralt continued. "All of us could use a break."

Mainly Jaskier. The bard had been even more exhausted lately than what Geralt had deemed to be the new normal. It was time to let him recover before continuing on. There was no fucking way he was going to let Jaskier crash and burn. Not on his watch.

"Hmph."

"Great. We'll continue the day after tomorrow," Geralt stated, ignoring Jaskier's irritation. The bard had yet to admit badly needing the longer breaks.

At least Jaskier kept eating. Most of the time. And got full nights of sleep once in a while even though the nightmares and insomnia were still real problems.

The only sound that accompanied them for a long time was the crackling and hissing of the slightly damp wood used as fuel for their campfire. In any other circumstances it would have been funny how badly Jaskier startled by a sudden hooting of an owl. Now the way Jaskier sprang to his feet only highlighted the anxiety the bard was constantly feeling.

Plopping back down with an embarrassed and tired sigh Jaskier glanced at Geralt. "Do you mind- Would it be okay if I leaned against you?"

Geralt was absolutely sure his heart skipped a beat at the quiet request. Jaskier hadn't been comfortable with anything else than holding hands since he almost destroyed everything between them. It felt like he had been kept at arm's length for an eternity. He didn't deserve anything else.

Yet he was like a starving man, desperate to be allowed to get close again.

"Yes, Jaskier. Yes, always," Geralt said in wonderment. "Whenever you want."

There was no hesitation when Jaskier flopped against his side, cushioning his head on Geralt's shoulder. The bard wasn't instructing him not to hold him but Geralt was determined to let Jaskier explicitly tell what he wanted him to do. He wouldn't take the lead with this, would gratefully follow Jaskier's directions. Would take any scrap of intimacy Jaskier granted him and feel like thanking the bard for every brush of fingers. Geralt had never known just how badly he could yearn for physical contact. Any previous experiences paled in comparison to having had that connection and then ripping it apart with his own hands, losing what had been built. Yet the wounds he had inflicted on Jaskier seemed to be healing, the bard regaining trust in him.

How the fuck Jaskier could think himself weak when he managed to only bend and not break from everything he had gone through?

"I'm sorry," Jaskier murmured against the crook of Geralt's neck. "So sorry."

"What?" the fuck?

"For still not being over what happened. For having taken such huge steps backwards. For not being strong enough," Jaskier whispered, a shudder running through his too thin frame. "Geralt, I hope you know I'm not trying to punish you with how often I leave some distance between us."

Just when he had wondered about Jaskier's self-deprecation. The bard would probably call it poetic or something.

"You have nothing to apologize for. Nothing," Geralt said resolutely. "What I did to you was terrible. You're so fucking strong Jaskier, being able to recover from it, to still want to be with me."

"To still love me." he added quietly.

"Loving you is as natural as breathing, Geralt. Making things work is the harder part. But it's work I'm glad to do, work I revel in," Jaskier announced, sounding surer of himself than in ages. "If I had to choose between being hurt by you and not loving you, I would always, each and every time, choose the hurt. You're worth every hardship, every tear and heartbreak. Believe me when I say the good far outweighs the difficulties. Always has."

"You're fucking fearless," Geralt blurted out before he could think about his words.

"I'm not," Jaskier disagreed immediately. "I'm fucking terrified of everything."

"Jaskier, you keep placing your love and trust in my hands even after I've repeatedly crushed them. Even before all this I kept hurting you with my actions and words," Geralt stated, looking deep in Jaskier's eyes. "You're fucking fearless with your emotions."

"I…"

"Jaskier, you're amazing. I have no fucking clue how to do that," Geralt continued, hoping the bard would believe him.

"Oh, Geralt, my love," Jaskier whispered softly, breath ghosting against Geralt's jawline. "You're such a liar when you say you don't know how to use words."

"Hnn," endearments were still impossible to handle.

"Now, now, don't try to hide it behind your grunts."

"Jaskier…"

"Yes?"

"I love you," Geralt more or less spat, so unlike he meant to. Maybe one day he'd manage to control his tone.

"I love you too," Jaskier declared with a soft smile and adoration on his face.

That was exactly what he had meant with the fearlessness. The bard kept flaunting his emotions, heedless of the dangers of doing so.

Things felt so much lighter after the conversation and the day off. Jaskier was reluctant to admit it but he did need the regular stops in traveling to recover a bit from the strain of being on the move. They were even making better time than he had expected despite the way he slowed them down. Riding Roach so often and long periods helped. And Geralt's insistence to take at least a short break every other hour or so.

"What do you think, Geralt? Will we be denied service this time?" Jaskier asked just before they entered an inn.

"Hmmm."

His casualness evaporated in the air like a morning mist the moment some of the patrons inside the inn turned to look at them. It was a normal reaction to them, it was. Jaskier knew they were a strange duo made even stranger looking with his terrible appearance. There was no reason to be nervous.

He was. Very much so.

This time the innkeeper didn't seem outright hostile as they stopped at the counter.

"Evening. Might I trade meals and a room for the night for a performance?" Jaskier inquired, fidgeting with the strap of the lute case thrown over his shoulder and focusing on keeping his voice steady.

"If you have the skills," the innkeeper agreed, looking him up and down making Jaskier realize he probably looked like he had been on a week long drinking binge and now having the hangover of his life. He was even wearing Geralt's too big shirt.

"Uhhh… I do?" Jaskier hated the way he accidentally turned it into a question.

"Oh well, I'm not going to lose anything by letting you sing a song to prove yourself. If you can actually play then we have a deal," the innkeeper shrugged, gesturing them to go sit at a table.

"Thanks," it was such a relief after the previous attempt.

Jaskier was relatively sure he wouldn't do so badly they'd be kicked out.

"You'll be fine," Geralt encouraged him quietly as Jaskier took his lute out as slowly as he possibly could. "I'll intervene in the off chance something happens. Jaskier, I won't let you come to harm."

"Mmhmm," Jaskier hummed absently, surveying the room and his soon to be audience. He couldn't spot anything out of ordinary.

Taking three steps away from Geralt Jaskier took a deep breath before giving the usual introduction and starting to sing. His fingers felt wooden and voice thin as a reed.

The innkeeper gave him a thumbs up after the first song.

The approval didn't make things much easier. But at least he hadn't failed to secure a place to stay for the night. Was slightly less of a burden, managed to provide something useful. If only Geralt would agree to use the bed. It wasn't as if he'd shatter if the Witcher was the one sleeping on something soft for once.

It was hard not to flinch at the applause and friendly cheers between the songs.

No one was throwing him crude proposals.

Jaskier was determined not to sing any of the dirtier songs.

It took far too long for the innkeeper to bring hot meals to their table, making it clear it was fine to stop. A bow and hasty steps backwards brought him to the safety of Geralt's immediate presence. It'd be nice to meld into Geralt's side, that way he wouldn't have to interact with the people heading toward him. Especially when the patrons tried to make up for the meager amount of coin they could give with attempts to chit-chat. Jaskier wasn't sure at all if the profit had been valuable enough compared to the way he had to fake being at ease. Compared to the way he had instinctively covered and lost his appetite from a comment about his looks when some woman voiced everybody's thoughts. Even Geralt's angry growl that made her skitter away in a hurry didn't make it better, damage already done.

He just wanted to get away.

Somewhere.

Anywhere.

"Jaskier, let's go."

Go. Yes.

"Jaskier?"

"Ye-yeah. Go. Now," Jaskier stammered, getting up and grabbing his lute case while Geralt gathered everything else. He had just enough presence of mind not to drop the case to the floor as they entered their room and remembered to place it gently down.

Reality felt strange, sticky.

"...Geralt? Hug me?" Jaskier was almost sure he said the words out loud.

"Do you actually want that?" Geralt asked bluntly, voice full of doubt.

"...I…" Jaskier trailed off, not sure of the answer. "...No?"

"Then I won't. Talk to me, Jaskier. What's wrong?" Geralt stated, crossing his arms.

"Sticky."

"Sticky?"

"World is sticky and stretchy. Swamp water and mud," Jaskier said, wondering if it made sense to Geralt.

"The fuck?"

It didn't then.

"I need… I need something- something concrete. Maybe hugging you would…" that should be easier to understand.

"I'll get you your weighted blanket but I won't hug you for that reason. Not when you haven't been comfortable with it when calm," Geralt said, immediately getting the blanket. "Should you pace around or sit down? Which sounds better? Jaskier?"

"Are you… making sure I keep talking?" Jaskier asked, words heavy on his tongue.

"Yes," Geralt nodded, handing him the blanket. "Speak."

"...Maybe walking. I can hear my steps. Feel them. They're real, aren't they?"

The blanket was relievingly heavy and warm on his shoulders. Concrete. Something to clutch and draw close to himself. Something to hold on to in more than one sense.

"They're real," Geralt agreed, almost radiating worry.

He shouldn't.

This too would pass. Eventually.

It did. Eventually.

"Hi, Geralt," Jaskier said, finally feeling steadier. More grounded, more real.

"Jaskier? Feeling better?" Geralt asked, hopeful tint in his voice.

"Yeah, I do. No stickiness left," Jaskier nodded, sitting down on the bed. "I'm just starting to get really tired. Like always."

"That's why we have a bed," Geralt said, looking at him pointedly before heading to the door. "I'll step out for a minute so you can get ready."

When Geralt returned, Jaskier felt already half asleep buried under blankets as he was. As Jaskier watched the Witcher roll out his bedding, he came to a decision.

"Geralt, could you sit with me for a while? Hold hands?" feeling childish for asking could fuck off.

The way Geralt brightened up was more than worth getting over his pride. Not to mention the rare peace that settled over him when Geralt gently took his hand in his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Communication!!!!!! And Geralt, stop your guilty act! You're not an undeserving and horrible person!! 
> 
> Also snap shots of the actually interesting moments during their travel and entering the vague time frame where I stop counting days (the last number is day 64). Same-ish format will stay until they reach Oxenfurt.


	87. Chapter 87

"Jaskier, I accepted a job earlier when I stepped out for a minute," Geralt announced, studying Jaskier's reactions. As he had guessed, the bard froze in surprise mixed with dread.

"Oh. That's good, I guess," Jaskier said, voice tense.

"I don't know how long it'll take, might be a couple of hours or the whole day. I have to track down a huldra and make her break her enchantment on the client's husband," Geralt explained, wishing he could take Jaskier with him instead of leaving the bard alone for who-knows-how-long.

"Huldra, huh… At least you shouldn't get hurt unless something unexpected happens," Jaskier mused, fidgeting with his beads.

"They're usually benign but I don't think you should come with me," Geralt said, hoping the bard would agree without an argument.

"...You're right, not the best match currently. I'd absolutely love to see one, have always wanted to, but I probably shouldn't get close to a being who's a seductress," Jaskier sighed, looking dismayed. "Sounds like a recipe for disaster. Did you really have to score this contract _now_?"

If Jaskier hadn't paled and wasn't tangling his beads so hard that Geralt was worried the cord would break, his casual tone would be more convincing.

"I can try to tell how it went afterwards," Geralt offered, hoping it'd make Jaskier feel better about missing the chance to meet a huldra. This was supposed to be a job that'd make the bard absolutely ecstatic, song almost writing itself.

"Thanks," Jaskier said quietly, lowering his eyes. "When are you leaving?"

"Soon. Jaskier, will you be alright? I'm taking Roach too," Geralt checked, not able to get rid of the already growing worry. The bard wouldn't have help, wouldn't have Brajan or anyone else to turn to.

There was a small pause before Jaskier nodded.

He too was probably thinking about the same thing then.

Things were still so fucking difficult.

"Great. Let's secure the room for one more night," Geralt said and stood up, heading to the counter once the bard did the same.

"...Could I trade one more night for a performance?" Jaskier asked the innkeeper before anyone had time to say anything, surprising Geralt.

"Eh, why not? It's not as if there's no room to spare," the innkeeper shrugged, looking pleased enough by the prospect of one more night of professional entertainment.

"Thanks. Could I… Could I also get a kettle of boiling water and a mug? So I could brew tea in our room," Jaskier continued, sounding uncharacteristically timid.

But the bard was interacting voluntarily.

"Sure, just a moment," the innkeeper nodded and went to retrieve the order.

Soon enough they were back in their room, Jaskier placing the kettle and mug on the table while Geralt dug out the bag of tea blend. It wasn't a bad idea to test if drinking the tea would help Jaskier's nerves enough to make the day more bearable. Maybe it'd offer at least a placebo effect if nothing else.

"Geralt, could I hug you?" Jaskier asked, turning away from the steeping tea to look at Geralt.

"Of course," Geralt said softly, determining the bard wasn't requesting it out of desperation.

Immediately Jaskier took few hurried steps to reach him and wound his arms tightly around Geralt's shoulders. Chest to chest Geralt could feel how fast Jaskier's heart was beating, how his breaths were shuddering. Gods, he wanted to hug him back. Hold the bard in his arms and not let go until Jaskier was happy again. But Jaskier's wording hadn't indicated a desire to be held.

"Please be safe," Jaskier murmured into Geralt's shirt. "Come back to me in one piece."

"I'll always do my best to return to you," Geralt promised.

Come hell or high water.

"Thank you," Jaskier said, giving a firm squeeze before stepping back. "May I kiss your hand?"

"Yes," Geralt breathed, surprise stealing his voice.

There was a strange pain in Geralt's heart as Jaskier let the kiss linger on his knuckles. He wanted to say something. He wasn't sure of what nor did he have the words.

"I locked my husband into the pantry this morning if you want to talk to him," Natalia told Geralt as he dismounted Roach. "Kacper felt the urge to go to the forest again, to go bed that monster."

"Hmmm."

"You can tie your horse there," Natalia said, gesturing to a nearby roundpole fence. Watching him do so she continued, arms crossed. "Like I said earlier in the morning, he's been getting busy with that …thing… for almost a week now. Thought at first he was having a tryst in the woods with our neighbor but when I followed, that huldra spirited me into the forest's cover. You know how it is, all sounds vanished and everything turned unfamiliar. Even the path I followed was suddenly gone as if it had never been there."

"Hmmm."

"Took me hours to get back home even after the enchantment ended when I switched to wearing my dress inside out," she grumbled, leading Geralt inside her house.

There was a sound of wood being kicked and a yell. "Natalia! Let me out!"

"He's all yours," Natalia stated as she lifted the latch and opened the pantry door, causing her husband to stumble out.

"What the hell Talia?" Kacper demanded, straightening up.

"I brought the Witcher," Natalia said coolly, making Kacper snap his attention to Geralt.

Unwilling to waste a second more Geralt interrupted the argument brewing. "Where have you been meeting with the huldra?"

"The forest," Kacper said simply.

"Where in the forest?" Geralt asked, already irked with the couple.

"A glade, about an hour from here."

"How do you get there?"

Kacper just shrugged. "She calls me there. So I go. She's _beautiful_."

"Not relevant!" Natalia snapped. "I think I know which glade he's talking about, tried to find the huldra myself. Obviously the monster didn't show up."

"How did you meet her the first time?" Geralt asked Kacper, wanting to be done. "And has she been rewarding you for pleasing her?"

"She blesses my traps. There's been far more rabbits in them than usual. She's so kind and beautiful. If only she would let me rest a little…" Kacper nodded, drawing attention to the dark circles under his eyes and the paleness of his face. "I was setting up a trap in the forest about a week ago when she stepped out of the trees and came to me."

"We've been seeing each other as much as possible since then," he added reverently to the clear annoyance of Natalia.

"Just go kill the monster already, Witcher. You don't need to know how many times my husband has been buried in her," Natalia spat.

"Huldra aren't monsters," Geralt informed her. "They're intelligent beings. But I will go talk with her and make sure she releases her hold on Kacper. You'll know the moment it happens from the change in his behavior."

"That better happen," Natalia muttered before giving as detailed directions to the glade as she could.

After marching Kacper back into the pantry in case the huldra's thrall would start tugging at him again Geralt headed into the forest, more than ready to be done with the contract. Maybe Jaskier had cast a thrall of his own on him, making him want to stay at the bard's side all the time. Nothing else felt as important as that.

It was a fucking weird desire even after all this time.

The directions given to him appeared to be true as Geralt could see traces of Kacper's passage in the undergrowth even after leaving the narrow forest path and delving deeper into the woods. Half an hour later Geralt stopped to survey the scene in front of him instead of stepping out in the open of the glade where the huldra was waiting.

She was lounging on a large smooth rock, long and loose blond hair carefully arranged around her head and limbs stretched in a way that managed to look seductive instead of ridiculous as it rightfully should. Only the cow tail belied the fact that the naked woman laying down wasn't a human with the way her back resembling a hollow tree wasn't visible.

"You're not Kacper," the huldra accused, sitting up and snapping her legs closed the second Geralt entered the glade.

"No, I'm not," Geralt nodded. "You need to let him go."

"I'm not keeping him here," the huldra said, spreading her arms wide in emphasis. "Nor do I own him. How could I let him go when I don't even have him?"

"Your enchantment. Break it," Geralt grunted, feeling his patience draining already.

"No enchantment other than my beauty has been cast on him," the huldra sniffed, tossing her hair.

"Break it."

" _He_ came to _me_ ," the huldra hissed, looking offended as she got on her feet. " _He_ decided to approach _me_ when I showed myself. _He_ has been coming back to _me_. Is it my fault humans find me alluring? That _he_ finds _me_ alluring?"

"You want an _enchantment_ to blame it on," she continued, voice resembling the rustling of foliage in strong wind and eyes shadowed. "So here's an _enchantment_."

Geralt could feel his pendant start to vibrate violently as tendrils of magic swirled around him, making the world fade in and out, only the huldra staying in focus.

She was the most beautiful being he had ever seen.

He had never wanted anyone as he wanted her.

He'd _die_ if he couldn't feel her curves and run his hands along her flawless skin. If she wouldn't welcome him in, if she wouldn't let him kiss her-

With a growl Geralt _shoved_ and the enchantment fractured, reality rushing back in and reason chasing the all-consuming lust away.

That, _that_ , was why Jaskier wouldn't get close to a huldra if Geralt had any fucking say in it. He _would not_ let Jaskier have his mind toyed with, have him forced to want someone. The bard didn't know how to snap himself out of it, didn't have the same defenses against magic a Witcher did. Living through that even briefly would surely be fucking devastating to Jaskier.

"What are you?" the huldra asked, startled as her magic failed to take hold.

"A Witcher," Geralt answered tersely. "If you don't have Kacper under your thrall then why is he acting irrational and knows when you're waiting for him?"

The huldra gave a deep sigh and bent to lift her almost translucent gauze dress from the ground she had abandoned it on.

"Come sit, mister Witcher," she said after putting her dress on and patted the rock next to her where she too took a seat.

Warily, ready to sprang into action if her offer turned out to be a trap, Geralt approached and sat down on the ground a little distance away and in front of her.

"A shy one, aren't you? Also a rude one for not asking my name. It's Kielo, just so you know," the huldra teased before sobering up. "People get easily obsessed with my kind, even without us consciously placing enchantments on them. Maybe it's the thrill of the unknown or the frankly mind blowing sex they get or the favors in hunting and fishing we can grant. Who knows with humans? They're strange. Entertaining but strange."

"You're right about the way we can enchant people to come to us, mister Witcher. But I didn't do it with Kacper. I liked his looks and voice so I showed myself and he practically fell into my embrace, no magic needed," Kielo continued, combing her hair with fingers. "Maybe he was bored with his wife, not that I care. I got what I wanted and so did he. I even gift him good luck with hunting after each time we have fun! It benefits him."

"How does he know when to come to you?" Geralt repeated.

Kielo hesitated for a while before amending her previous statement, tail twitching nervously. "Well… I might have placed a teeny tiny enchantment on him. Just to make sure he knows when I want him! Nothing more, no compulsions added! It's not my fault if he's desperate to match my appetite!"

"Break it," Geralt ordered once again, wanting to simply be finished and back with Jaskier.

"You're truly a rude one, mister Witcher. I'm not done playing with Kacper. I'm having a good time, why would I want it to end?"

"He's losing strength and shrinking his responsibilities. You're harming him, Kielo," Geralt said evenly. "Let him be, move on."

"I don't want to," Kielo pouted, kicking her feet petulantly. "It's not my fault if he's too obsessed to stop coming."

"I don't care if he wants to seek you out after you stop letting him know whenever you want to have a roll in the grass with him," Geralt stated, frustrated with her. "Just break the fucking enchantment so I can collect my fee and leave."

Not the kindest sentiment but it was the truth.

"You're a greedy one too, mister Witcher. Do you have any redeeming qualities?" Kielo sighed in mock dismay. "Would you show them to me? Share a roll in the grass?"

"No."

"Ah, a boring one on top of everything else."

"Kielo, if you keep a hold on him, people will eventually come after you. They see you as a monster. They'll kill you," Geralt said gravely, hoping her self-preservation instincts were stronger than her desire to have fun. He didn't want to fight her.

The huldra did seem to pause at that, biting her lower lip.

"I'll just spirit them away into the forest's cover," Kielo decided, despite the note of doubt in her tone.

"They know the tricks to prevent it. If not, Kacper's wife will share the knowledge."

"Then I'll fight," Kielo declared, tossing her hair proudly. "I'm strong."

"You could easily bend a horseshoe," Geralt granted. "But there will be too many for you."

Kielo finally nodded, shoulders slumping. "...I know. Humans breed so fast. And they like to kill what they don't understand."

"Hmmm."

"I hope he'll still come to me. I really do like Kacper," Kielo murmured, eyes downcast.

As she took a deep breath and closed her eyes, Geralt felt his medallion briefly and gently vibrate as her magic was wielded.

"There. I hope you're happy now, mister Witcher. At least one of us should feel that way," Kielo sniffed, voice thick and lips trembling.

Jaskier once again wanted to kick himself for not having planned ahead what he'd do while alone. It'd probably make things easier, having a plan to follow instead of standing uselessly and overwhelmed in the middle of their room. Maybe he should try writing a list of possible activities, then he could just reference it in the future to avoid the paralyzing inability to choose.

Mind finally made Jaskier retrieved his songbook and a pen, taking a seat at the small table.

Opening the book wasn't supposed to take a full minute.

The tea mug was warm against Jaskier's trembling hands.

It was difficult to think of anything.

The mug had turned cold long before Jaskier lifted his pen.

"Work on song lyrics," Jaskier mumbled, writing it down. "Make notes on chord progressions."

His thoughts were so sluggish, too occupied with listening to every single creak and sound to let him focus. A door slammed downstairs almost as if on a cue, making Jaskier flinch.

There was a strange ink squiggle on the page now. But nothing else. Not using a quill had been the right decision.

It was nice doing something right.

He hadn't done that often lately.

The tea in the kettle was barely lukewarm when Jaskier poured himself another mug. The drink wasn't actually doing much but at least it was something to occupy himself with.

"Do maintenance on the lute. Read," Jaskier muttered, adding them to the woefully short list. "Do inventory and arrange the saddlebags."

He should do that. They'd probably stock up tomorrow before leaving since they both were getting paid. It took minutes to move to the other side of the room. Going through their provisions showed dwindling bags of oats for both them and Roach. A few other ingredients needed to be replenished too. Done checking their food, Jaskier contemplated going through other bags too.

Geralt had taken the potion bag with him. Good. Jaskier wasn't sure if he would have been able to resist taking a sleeping potion just so he wouldn't have to be aware of the world, of himself. It'd leave him completely defenseless but on the other hand he also might sleep deeply enough to not wake up regardless of what might happen to him. Taking one was both a worrying and tempting thought.

It was for the best Geralt had eliminated the option.

Moving on to go through his own saddlebag, Jaskier realized the Witcher hadn't returned his scissors. He couldn't really blame Geralt for getting spooked again by his reckless use of them even though the lack of trust did sting a bit. …Then again, he had just thought about knocking himself out with a potion so Geralt might have a point.

Even though the two things were very different.

Jaskier stopped rummaging his saddlebag for a moment, lamenting how empty it was with the frankly ridiculous speed most of his outfits had been destroyed beyond repair. At least it'd mean there'd be space for clothes more suitable for winter than his current ones. But he had liked his previous clothes. Except for the almost-lilac doublet and trousers. Those were absolutely despicable. He should have shred the trousers too like the doublet, not just thrown them away. Maybe Alisa had sold them by now. It'd be nice if something good had come from the disgusting colored fabric. It was quality silk after all, she should get a fine price for the trousers.

Jaskier hadn't known he could hate a color with such fervent passion.

Wanting to distract himself from the memory of the outfit Marden had made him wear, Jaskier took out his hand mirror and unwrapped it from its protective packaging. He needed to see the damage he had done to his haircut, would have to figure out a way to make it resemble something halfway decent before they'd reach Oxenfurt. Going there would be absolutely useless, might even worsen everything, if he didn't put up a front of being fine.

Jaskier wished it didn't have to be a terribly flimsy mask. If only he really could be fine. Okay would work too, even so-so. Anything slightly positive would be wonderful. Anything but this.

Holding his breath Jaskier lifted the small mirror high enough to see himself.

The face looking back at him was just as unfamiliar as the last few times.

It wasn't him.

He couldn't do this.

With a shuddering breath Jaskier dropped the mirror on top of the saddlebag and watched it continue its descent to the floor from there. Hopefully it didn't fracture. He couldn't find it in himself to check if he had broken one of his oldest possessions.

He didn't want to know.

He didn't- didn't-

Have air. Only a cold stone resided in his chest, constricting his breathing and causing tears to well up in his eyes. His fingers were tingling and legs shaking.

Something bad was about to happen.

What, Jaskier didn't know.

But it'd be terrible.

He couldn't remember how to breathe, couldn't keep standing, couldn't focus, was only drowning on dry land. The world was so far away. There wasn't anything but fear.

He'd be hurt and killed. Geralt would be hurt and killed. Someone would enter into the room any second now. Force their way in.

Jaskier wasn't sure how he knew it. He just did. It'd happen. It would. He was sure of it.

Unless he suffocated before it.

He was so terrified. He couldn't remember where Geralt had gone. Couldn't remember if the Witcher was safe, couldn't remember if he was alive. Jaskier wasn't completely sure he himself was alive. He didn't feel alive. Unless hurting and being afraid meant that he had to be alive. Then he was. For now. Until someone came in. Until the lack of oxygen did him in.

Jaskier wasn't sure where he was. When he was. Wasn't sure if the fingers clutching at his chest were his.

But he had to have a body.

Had to.

Otherwise nonexistent air wouldn't bother him.

The fingers slowly switched to clutching at the beaded necklace when Jaskier willed them to. They were his then.

The beads were solid under his fingertips, different textures and materials variating as he fidgeted with them. The quiet clinking giving him something else to listen to than blood rushing in his ears or the wheezing breaths rattling his chest.

Jaskier still wasn't sure where he was.

But he did have a body again. That was curled up on the floor.

Wrenching his tear filled eyes open, Jaskier saw a- "...Mirror…"

He had a voice.

"...Saddlebag… …Wall… …Chair…"

Jaskier was vaguely aware listing things was something he was supposed to do. The why was still foggy.

There wasn't much to see so Jaskier kept repeating the same few things in his eyesight until he realized that he was finally coming down from a panic attack. Had been having one. How long it had been since it started, Jaskier couldn't say. Except for too long. Even the light had changed a bit, sunbeam streaming from the window hitting the floor slightly farther left since the last time he had been aware of it.

Maybe Geralt would return soon.

The thought was enough to prompt Jaskier to shakily retrieve the weighted blanket and move to the bed despite the way his breathing stayed unsteady. He was not going to be laying on the floor looking all pathetic when Geralt would walk in. He refused. Being buried underneath blankets wouldn't boost the Witcher's opinion in him but it was still the better option.

If Jaskier hadn't been out of tears by the time Geralt entered the room, he would have started to cry from pure relief.

He was safe now.

"Jaskier?" Geralt asked, tone worried. "Did something happen?"

"...Not really… …Panic attack…" Jaskier mumbled, voice faint. He was beyond caring about such admissions.

Geralt gave a deep sigh. "Bad one?"

"Mmhmm."

"Are you hurt?" Jaskier asked in turn. It was more important than his inability to keep himself together.

"No. I wasn't in danger at any point," Geralt said, making Jaskier's worry for the Witcher evaporate. "Want me to tell how it went?"

"...Not now," Jaskier shook his head, causing Geralt's eyebrows to rise in surprise.

"Hmmm."

"Geralt? Could you sit with me?" Jaskier asked, patting the bed's side. Maybe the Witcher wouldn't mind sitting on the floor. Jaskier just wasn't sure if he could handle sharing the bed with him, be able to separate the reality from fears.

"Of course. Do you need something?" Geralt inquired, heading to him.

"Just you," Jaskier murmured, wishing he could touch Geralt as the Witcher settled on the floor in a way they could easily look at each other.

"You have me," Geralt said softly, making Jaskier's heart skip a beat.

Geralt would have gladly paid for the night instead of Jaskier trading it for the second performance but the bard had been adamant about doing it despite his obvious exhaustion. It was unarguably good for their finances but those were frankly far less important than Jaskier's health.

But here he was, watching as Jaskier took a few steps away from him and introduced himself to the audience. The barely there slump of the bard's shoulders and the slightly fainter than normal voice made Geralt wish he could simply grab Jaskier and carry him back to their room and make him sleep. Jaskier had to be absolutely drained from having stayed alone for so long for him not to be able to fake his way through a performance as well as usual.

Not that the bard's tired and anxious demeanor seemed to bother the other patrons, people clearly enjoying the skilled singing.

As they should.

Geralt doubted the backwater village they were in had seen a professional entertainer in years if ever.

"You're doing great," Geralt encouraged Jaskier as the bard came to gulp down water in between the songs, waiting for the applause to die down before continuing.

"Thanks, Geralt," Jaskier said quietly before heaving a heavy sigh and starting another song, one detailing a fight against a bruxa that had happened few years back.

It was getting fucking hard to watch Jaskier driving himself into the ground, giving everything he could to the performance. To entertain others with a song after a song, heedless of his clearly dwindling strength.

Why the fuck did Jaskier have to be such a stubborn idiot?

Geralt was seriously contemplating interrupting the show when Jaskier let the final chord reverberate through the tavern before bowing.

"Thank you, my dearest audience for listening to this humble bard. Should you have enjoyed the songs, I wouldn't be averse if you'd show it by gifting me with a coin or two," Jaskier said grandiosely despite the faintest tremor Geralt could detect in his voice.

With that Jaskier took a step backwards and carefully placed his lute against the table before taking a seat.

"Made it," Jaskier whispered, face pale and drawn.

"You did," Geralt agreed, nudging the mug of water closer to the bard.

As Jaskier slowly sipped the water, people started approaching them. Approaching Jaskier. This time Geralt was determined to keep everyone from even breathing a word that could be taken as flirtatious or about Jaskier's looks. It took considerable effort not to shoot murderous looks at anyone who even glanced at the bard, let alone drew him into a conversation. But he would not repeat the mistake of scaring people away and prevent Jaskier from being paid. Once was more than enough.

So Geralt just clenched his jaw and kept watch.

Eventually Jaskier tilted his head to look at him. "Let's go?"

"Hmmm."

It was a silent trek to their room, only a quiet curse from Jaskier interrupting the silence as the bard stumbled on the stairs, almost falling. Geralt's heart did fall down to his stomach when Jaskier teetered for a second. Thankfully snatching hold of the bard wasn't necessary but the sudden clumsiness did nothing to improve Geralt's opinion of the bard overworking himself.

Only worsened it.

"Jaskier, what's wrong?" Geralt asked, eyes narrowing as Jaskier moved gingerly around their room getting ready to sleep.

"Tired," Jaskier said shortly, taking his nightclothes out.

"It's more than that, isn't it?" Geralt huffed, already annoyed by the evasion.

For a moment Jaskier just stared back at him before caving. "Another headache."

"Fucking tell me when you're hurting," Geralt grumbled, causing Jaskier to flinch and mumble something under his breath even he couldn't make out. Shooting a questioning look at Jaskier only made the bard wave him off.

"Jaskier, I'm serious. Tell me when you're hurting or exhausted or something. Stop hiding it," Geralt demanded, done with the bad habit. "I'm not going to think you're weak or a burden because of it."

"Mmhmm."

"You promised me once to let me know when you have a headache," Geralt reminded the bard. "Fulfill it."

"I'm sorry," Jaskier said, lowering his eyes. "They just don't matter that much. I haven't had another migraine after all."

_They_.

Of course it had to be multiple. Fucking asshole.

Geralt hated the way Jaskier tensed up and started to clutch his beads hard enough to turn his knuckles white as the bard observed the way he was grinding his teeth in an attempt not to snap at him.

Hated that Jaskier was afraid of him.

"Jaskier, you're safe. I'm not going to do anything to you," Geralt ground out, wishing he could make his voice soothing instead of angry.

"I know," Jaskier said immediately. "Geralt, _I know_ you won't."

"Hmmm."

"You big oaf, stop your internal self-flagellation. I reacted on instinct, not because I think you're going to hurt me," Jaskier chided, relaxing his grip on the beads one finger at a time. Only to wince and press a hand against his temple.

Right, the headache.

Geralt finished digging out a painkiller and offered it to Jaskier. "Here."

It felt foolish to be this glad about the way Jaskier didn't have trouble taking things from his hands anymore. But it meant things kept normalizing, getting closer to how they had been and that was something to be happy about.

"Geralt, could we stop for a short while?" Jaskier asked, making the Witcher halt immediately.

"Of course," Geralt agreed easily, pleased edge in his tone as he led them little off the road.

Jaskier couldn't hold the relieved sigh in as his tired legs sang praises for not having to hold him up anymore. Sitting on the damp moss felt far too good to actually reflect the reality. Not that he too wasn't damp. Everything was damp from the rain that pretended to be mist.

"Eat," Geralt said before lobbing an apple onto Jaskier's lap.

The Witcher tossing him food or a waterskin was far too routine for Jaskier to startle anymore. Most of the time. As long as Geralt remembered to give him a heads up.

"Don't even think about giving half of that to Roach," Geralt stated, narrowing his eyes when Jaskier stopped eating and switched to inspecting the apple instead.

"You're right. I shouldn't do that, lady Roach deserves a whole apple and not my leftovers," Jaskier agreed, knowing that wasn't what Geralt meant.

The annoyed grumble confirmed it.

"I'll finish it later," Jaskier promised, angling himself to partly face the Witcher sitting next to him. "...Could I lean on you…?"

Asking for it was still harder than it had been. Getting easier again, yes, but still difficult.

"Always, Jaskier. Always," there was still a hidden tone that bordered on reverence in Geralt's voice whenever asked for physical closeness.

It hurt, not being able to give it to Geralt as much as the Witcher craved it. Jaskier wasn't sure if Geralt even realized how badly he wanted it.

They were both so bloody touch starved.

After arranging his borrowed cloak into a better position Jaskier leaned against Geralt's side, giving a sigh of contentment and tried to find a pleasant spot to rest his head. The Witcher's armor made it rather hard, in both senses of the word.

But it was Geralt and that was enough.

"...Hold me?" Jaskier requested quietly to Geralt's clear surprise as the Witcher's breath caught for a split second.

It was far from an unexpected reaction. Jaskier was almost positive it had been almost two weeks since the last time he had asked for it, since the last time he had felt comfortable with the thought of having an arm around him. The days were blurring together again but they had been traveling for a long time now, Geralt had even mentioned that they were getting close to the river separating Temeria and Redania.

They'd soon get on a barge to take them to Oxenfurt.

It was frightening, being so close to their current destination.

"Gladly," Geralt said, drawing Jaskier back to present.

The first brush of Geralt's arm against his shoulders made Jaskier tense up for a second before melting into the touch.

Oh, how he had missed this.

"Thank you for being so patient with me, Geralt," Jaskier knew he had said it countless times. He still meant it with all sincerity, just as much as the first time.

"All I want is you to feel good and safe, Jaskier."

That answer was heard just as often.

Sometimes Jaskier believed it to be the truth. Sometimes he didn't. Right now he did.

"I love you," Jaskier whispered into Geralt's ear as if sharing a secret.

"...Jaskier," Geralt said in the choked tone that meant the Witcher was struggling to say the same.

"It's okay, dear heart. I know you feel the same. You don't have to force yourself to say it every time," Jaskier murmured tenderly. "You shouldn't ever force yourself to say it at all."

"I want to," Geralt stated resolutely despite the faint blush the endearment caused, locking eyes with Jaskier. "I want to tell it to you whenever."

"You already do. I can see it in the ways you act, Geralt."

For the first time in ages looking at a river didn't make Jaskier want to immediately jump in. Not when he knew what waited on the opposite shore.

He loved Oxenfurt. He really did.

He despised the mere thought of going there.

"I need to fix my hair," Jaskier said woodenly, still staring at the water. "Wash and shave. Change clothes. I can't show up looking like this."

"Hmmm."

"Could- could you hold up a mirror for me? And finally return the scissors?" Jaskier asked, tearing his eyes off the river to look at Geralt.

"Sure," Geralt answered, this time using his words.

"Thanks," it was hard to speak through the lump in his throat.

He didn't want to do this, didn't want to touch his hair, didn't want to see his face. He needed to.

The scissors shook in Jaskier's hand when Geralt gave them back to him.

There weren't any fractures on the mirror when Geralt held it up for him, hands steady.

Jaskier was half surprised his own face didn't show all the fractures running inside him. It was only pale and ugly, looking nothing like he remembered. Nothing like he had been. Maybe it was for the best, looking so unattractive now. He didn't want the attention after all and for some reason Geralt didn't seem to mind how terrible he looked.

Ha. Marden had wanted to preserve beauty but ended up destroying it. How fitting.

Jaskier couldn't stifle the dismayed noise he made as he focused on his hair. There was nothing else to be done to it than crop it, the length too uneven and patchy for anything else.

At least it wouldn't take much skill to shear it down.

And what was one more unflattering feature when he already was revolting?

His hand shook. The first snip of the scissors was deafening. Stray hair made its way to his lashes. The lump in his throat was growing.

Jaskier positioned the scissors again flat against his head, hoping it'd achieve an even cut if he managed to keep the same angle. Such close cropped hair would look hideous on him.

No one would be able to grab it.

The thought made him feel slightly better.

It was hard to see what he was doing as stubborn tears refused to stay away.

"Jaskier, take a break," Geralt said evenly.

"...I have to- to finish," Jaskier mumbled, not stopping.

"You will. But you don't have to do it in one go," Geralt rebutted, tone kind. "There's time. You can take the whole day if you need to."

"...Huh…" not doing it all at once hadn't even crossed his mind but Geralt was right, there wasn't a reason why he had to.

Jaskier's hands were shaking even worse when he placed the scissors on the ground next to him.

"You're doing good," Geralt encouraged him, also placing the mirror away. "Jaskier, you're safe. Everything is alright."

"I… know," Jaskier nodded hesitantly.

He couldn't make the tears stop.

"Geralt, could you hug me? Please?" Jaskier asked, voice small. He wanted to feel safe, not only know.

"Jaskier…"

"I know you're hesitant to touch me when I'm upset but I truly want this. Please," Jaskier mumbled, hunching into himself. "I need you Geralt."

There was a stony silence for a moment before Geralt exhaled heavily and opened his arms. "Come here."

The words were barely out when Jaskier practically launched himself into Geralt's embrace, clutching the Witcher desperately. The tension making his muscles ache was slowly starting to bleed away when Geralt moved to hold him gently, pressure of the hug bordering on nonexistent.

"Thank you, Geralt. I feel safe," Jaskier whispered, voice thick with tears. "I feel safe in your arms again."

Finally.

"Hmmm," Geralt hummed, sounding content despite everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was fun to give Geralt a job that didn't involve killing! Also, huldra is a Scandinavian being but this for this one I also mixed Finnish Metsänneito (Forest's maiden) in it. And went with the stories that paint huldra in a more seductive light. There's a lot of different stories about them. Btw, kielo is Finnish for lily-of-the-valley. Not that it's important in any way, just a fun tidbit.
> 
> NEXT CHAPTER: OXENFURT PART 1 (Which also means there's gonna (probably) be only 2-3 chapters left of this fic...! :O


	88. Chapter 88

Jaskier didn't feel ready in the least as he drew Geralt's cloak tighter around himself while the Witcher paid for their passage on the barge that would take them across the delta. It was foolish to need another layer of clothing to hide under but Jaskier didn't have the strength to fight against the urge. Not when he'd have to don a mask and pretend to be absolutely fine the moment they'd reach Oxenfurt. Try to act as if the crowded streets he'd have to navigate hadn't made their way into his nightmares for the past couple of nights.

It was difficult to keep to his decision instead of asking Geralt if they could continue straight to Kaer Morhen after all. But there was no way he'd let Marden wrench even his future and career from him, not without a fight.

"Jaskier, we can board now," Geralt said, turning to him.

"Great," Jaskier muttered, leading Roach up the walkway and pressing himself as close to the mare as possible.

Once Roach was taken care of they retreated to as a secluded corner as they could, Geralt positioning himself to cover Jaskier from sight to the best of his ability. Jaskier fervently wished no one who knew him would board the barge and spot him. He wanted to have the last hours before reaching Oxenfurt to himself, to not put up a front yet. The thought of doing so was too exhausting.

It was only once the walkway was lifted and the barge started its journey that Jaskier was able to take a deep breath again, relaxing a miniscule amount.

"Are you alright?" Geralt asked, mindful of his volume.

"As well as I can be at the moment," Jaskier shrugged, aware Geralt knew perfectly well that he wasn't alright. "Just nervous."

Highly anxious, more like.

"Hmmm," the Witcher clearly didn't buy it.

The curious looks thrown at them did nothing to help Jaskier's mood. At least Geralt's expression and body language had kept everyone from approaching so far. Jaskier was sure it wouldn't last. Not with the way there wasn't anything entertaining or interesting happening and people taking note of the lute case he was hugging. Someone with an instrument traveling to Oxenfurt was practically a honey trap to bored people.

Honestly, it spoke volumes about the unfriendliness Geralt was emanating that it took over an hour before he was approached.

"Are you a bard?" a girl asked, having come over after a lot of prompting from what Jaskier guessed to be her siblings.

"Mmhmm."

"Go away," Geralt said at the same time.

The girl did shuffle farther away but didn't give up. "Play for us?"

Jaskier knew he was supposed to be delighted by the request. The knowledge only made him feel worse.

"Please?" she entreated when Jaskier didn't answer immediately.

"He doesn't have to," Geralt grunted, aimed as much at Jaskier as the girl.

"...Okay…" Jaskier sighed wearily and took his lute out, not moving to stand.

"Jaskier," Geralt huffed, sounding displeased.

"It's alright, Geralt," Jaskier said, starting to play. There was already a crowd gathering to listen to him by the time he reached the lyrics.

It didn't take long before he could hear people murmuring as some of them recognized him and his songs. The overheard comments about his unhealthy looks burrowed deep, making Jaskier wish he could just lift the cloak's hood to disappear under it, hide from the judging eyes. No one on the barge even knew him personally yet they still could spot so many differences in his performance since the last time he had been here.

It painted a clear picture of how terribly he was doing.

His steadily constricting throat made Jaskier stop singing after only a handful of songs to the vocal disappointment of his audience.

"Oh come on, bard! You barely started."

"You're Jaskier, aren't you? I heard you perform at the Rose and Song, you played for hours there."

"What's wrong, are you ill?"

Why, oh, why did people think it was alright to talk to him like that just because he was a performer? Was he really below common decency? Just a pretty -now ugly- doll, and a damaged one at that, meant for only entertainment? Meant for nothing else than others' enjoyment?

"Shut the fuck up!" Geralt snapped, silencing the comments. "Leave him alone and fuck off."

"Go drown yourself, Witcher!" someone shouted back, making Jaskier flinch and wish he could open his mouth to defend Geralt.

He hated, _hated_ , the cruelty that got flung at Geralt. Hated that he couldn't at the moment make himself challenge whoever had said that. Hated he couldn't protect Geralt from such actions. Hated that the words hurt Geralt despite the way the Witcher adamantly pretended otherwise.

"Don't start fighting over a too short performance," the skipper declared, starting to shoo people to disperse. "Come up with something else to pass the time."

"You too, Witcher. Don't rile people up," she continued, looking Geralt up and down before focusing on Jaskier. "Nice voice, bard. If you feel like singing again at some point, go ahead."

"Thanks," Jaskier said, doing his best to appear unaffected by the less than positive comments that had been aimed at him. It wasn't his job to keep people entertained.

…Except it literally was.

"You too can leave now," Geralt stated, arms crossed and tone only slightly less hostile as he stared at the skipper.

"Sure," the woman shrugged. "I don't care about what you do as long as it's not about to cause a riot on my barge. So no insulting anyone again, okay."

"Hnn."

"Behave. There's a couple of hours or so before we reach Oxenfurt," the skipper said in parting as she walked away.

"Jaskier, you're safe. Nothing is going to happen," Geralt said evenly, lowering himself to sit next to Jaskier. "Everything is alright."

"Mmhmm."

"Jaskier, talk to me," Geralt requested, eyes intense.

"...We both know it's not alright," Jaskier muttered, clinging to words and drawing the borrowed cloak tighter around himself. "This was a fucking bad idea, wasn't it?"

Geralt stayed silent.

"I think… I think this is going to be really hard for me. People already recognized me despite-" looking like hell. "-everything. And none of them even knows me personally. I've performed in Oxenfurt countless times, made a name for myself."

"And I just know that the moment one of my friends spots me, I'll get roped into meeting a bunch of them. I won't be able to refuse and making a brief appearance is also the point of all this," Jaskier continued, fidgeting with his beads. "Geralt, will you give me an excuse to leave if I want to go? I'm sorry for using you to be able to avoid being seen as rude."

"I don't mind, I'll gladly do it," Geralt said. "Jaskier, is it okay for me to say we're leaving if I deem it necessary?"

"Yeah, that's fine," Jaskier nodded.

It was relieving to discuss things in advance. They probably should practice it more often.

Jaskier absolutely adored Oxenfurt. Its colorful wooden houses, the bustling streets full of people and vendors, the shops selling wonders that couldn't be found anywhere else, the festivities that happened year round. The music.

Right now it was hell.

Everything was too much. Too many people, too much noise, too much happening at once. He couldn't keep up, couldn't keep an eye on everything around him.

"Jaskier? Jaskier, look at me," Geralt said with a frown, sounding like he had been trying to catch his attention for a while. "Which way?"

"Uh, hmmm," it took Jaskier a moment to get his tongue to cooperate. "Left. And a right when we reach the fountain. The Rose and Song will be a minute from there."

"They have a stable too," he added unnecessarily, patting Roach in thanks for letting him ride through the streets. Honestly, giving directions to the inn had been just as unnecessary. Geralt knew perfectly well how to get there.

"When's the last time you were there?" Geralt asked, clearly trying to offer him a distraction.

"Spring. Before meeting up with you."

"Hmmm."

It was a nice attempt. Jaskier felt bad it wasn't enough to keep him engaged in the conversation. He wanted to focus on Geralt but he just couldn't.

He needed to keep an eye on the surroundings. To make, try at least, sure they weren't in danger.

It felt like they were.

Jaskier knew it wasn't true.

But they were.

"Jaskier, snap out of it. We're here," Geralt stated, interrupting the looping thought.

"Oh," Jaskier blinked as he looked around before dismounting.

It didn't take long to make Roach comfortable and leave her alone with fresh hay to munch on. Stopping in front of the inn's front door Jaskier wished he was still bundled in Geralt's cloak. Or wearing one of the Witcher's shirts. But it'd be a strange sight to those who knew him and he needed to present himself as close to normal as he possibly could. It'd probably be futile but an effort had to be made. With a glance at Geralt and a deep breath Jaskier opened the door, making music and sounds of people talking spill out to the street.

Posture straight and head up he walked to the counter, trying to appear as confident as he could despite the anxiety churning in his gut. There were a few greetings thrown at him that Jaskier answered with a wave, not trusting his voice.

Geralt was a reassuring presence, walking half a step behind.

"Jaskier! I haven't seen you since spring. Hello to you too Geralt," Karolina, one of the inn's barmaids, said delighted as they stopped at the counter. With a worried frown forming as she looked Jaskier up and down she added. "Are you alright, Jaskier?"

"No worries, dear Karolina. A few sleepless nights and monster guts that got stuck in my hair," Jaskier tried to brush it aside, unable to keep his voice from catching. "Would you have a free room with two beds for trading?"

For once Geralt was going to sleep on a bed or so help him. And take a fucking bath too. Just because he couldn't do so didn't mean Geralt shouldn't.

"Sure do. Want meals too?" Karolina answered promptly with a smile despite the frown not smoothing away.

"Yes please. We'll also pay for Roach's upkeep. Have you booked someone to play for tonight? We won't stay for long," Jaskier inquired, wanting to get everything settled as soon as possible. His hands were starting to tremble.

"We do," Karolina nodded. "But you can perform earlier. Sebastian will finish in an hour or so and there's no one else to fill the slot after him. People will be delighted to hear you sing."

"It's a deal then," Jaskier agreed, managing to flash her an utterly fake smile that disappeared almost as soon as it formed.

Jaskier could feel his heart drop as Karolina tried to hand him the keys, knowing she would purposefully brush her fingers against his. Thankfully Geralt reached immediately to take the keys before things could get awkward.

"Hey, Jaskier, it's been such a long time since we last saw each other. Would you like to catch up tonight at my place after my shift ends? I've missed you and your clever mouth," Karolina proposed with a teasing smile and completely shamelessly, sure that Jaskier would find it fun instead of invasive.

Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck.

Why hadn't he thought about the people he tended to have flings while at Oxenfurt, of what would happen when running into them?

Feeling absolutely cornered and freezing words were forcing themselves out of his mouth without permission. "...Sure. My pleasure."

What the fuck was he _doing?_

_He didn't want to._

_He didn't._

_Didn't._

"He can't," Geralt snapped. "Let's go, Jaskier."

Unable to do much more than automatically follow Geralt on wooden legs and a blank mind Jaskier found himself stepping into an empty room.

He couldn't remember how to breathe.

He wasn't sure if the whine he could hear was coming from him.

He didn't remember having got onto his knees or curling into himself.

He was so cold and filled with static, fingers tingling painfully and toes numb.

He couldn't breath.

"Jaskier, you're safe. You don't have to go with her. Don't have to do anything you don't want to. You're safe," Geralt's voice was starting to register. "Open your eyes and focus on your surroundings, tell me what you see. Jaskier, you're safe."

He didn't want to have sex with Karolina.

He had given his word.

His consent.

He didn't want to.

He didn't.

He had promised.

He had promised.

He had promised.

Jaskier could almost hear Marden's voice reminding him of his promise.

"Jaskier! Look at me," Geralt demanded. "Look at your surroundings. You're safe. Not with the bastard. No one will force you into anything."

It was a fight to open his eyes and focus on Geralt.

"That's it, now tell me what you see," Geralt encouraged him patiently.

"...You…" Jaskier mumbled breathlessly. There were more things to note around him than usual, the inn's room more expensive than they tended to stay at. Having to remember new words instead of repeating a few until the panic attack calmed down helped.

He was shaking too badly to get up even when his breathing steadied.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," Jaskier whispered, too ashamed to look at Geralt. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

He couldn't hold the words back.

"Stop, you don't have to apologize for having a panic attack," Geralt said, tired edge in his tone.

Jaskier shook his head emphatically. "...Not that. I'm sorry for agreeing to sleep with someone else."

He was detestable.

"Ah."

"I'm so sorry."

"You said yes because you didn't know how to refuse, right?" Geralt asked.

"Yeah," Jaskier mumbled, biting his tongue to keep himself from apologizing again. He didn't want to make Geralt any angrier than the Witcher surely was.

"Jaskier, that's not an agreement. It's fear," Geralt said bluntly. "I don't blame you nor am I angry."

"I consented when I haven't even done that with you!" Jaskier exclaimed, wanting Geralt to admit being angry so he could start making amends. "Don't pretend not being furious."

"I've told you this before and I'll keep repeating until you believe again; not being able to say no is not consent and that includes you," Geralt stated resolutely before his voice turned strained like the words were difficult to say. "I'm not furious, I'm worried. I'm fucking worried about your troubles with disagreeing, with saying no. It's dangerous."

"Oh. …You really aren't angry…?" Jaskier ventured, hesitant to believe it.

"No."

It was an immense relief. "Thank you."

"For what?" Geralt asked, looking confused.

"For being amazing," Jaskier answered promptly and sincerely.

"Shut up," Geralt huffed.

Observing the Witcher's expression keenly for a second, Jaskier decided he wasn't serious. "Nope. You need to hear it."

Getting up on still unsteady legs Jaskier looked at Geralt. "May I have a quick hug before we go downstairs? It's my turn to perform soon."

"Are you sure you should sing?" Geralt asked, studying him. It was a valid question.

"Probably not but I'm still going to do it," Jaskier shrugged. That at least was a promise he was determined to keep.

Geralt gave a wordless grumble as he took a couple of steps to stop right in front of Jaskier and spread his arms in an invitation. "Come here, idiot."

Jaskier was happy to oblige. Having Geralt gently hug him for a few seconds made the whole world seem a slightly better place. A safer place. Somewhere he wanted to stay. Preferably in Geralt's arms but he couldn't stand more than the brief moment. The shortness of the hug didn't seem to matter to Geralt, Witcher's eyes brimming with emotion as Jaskier disengaged.

It was a beautiful sight.

Jaskier stared in dismay and anxiety at the stage where Sebastian was finishing his performance, realizing there was no way to keep Geralt close to him. While the inn's tavern wasn't completely full thanks to it being only late afternoon the tables closest to the stage were all occupied, people wanting to have the best seats to observe the performances. At least no one would dare to join him on the stage and interrupt his singing. Jaskier still wished he could back out of the deal but their room would cost more than they should spend and he was not going to be a liability when there was something he could do.

"Jaskier, how are you going to do this?" Geralt asked, clearly realizing the same problem.

"Professionally," Jaskier mumbled, hands tangling into his beads. "Going onto that stage and singing. Probably crying afterwards."

The Witcher didn't seem to appreciate his attempt at humor.

"We can just pay for the room," Geralt said seriously. "You don't have to perform."

"I'm going to," Jaskier muttered, aiming for stubborn but landing on a nervous tone.

"Fine. Stop early if it starts getting too much," Geralt conceded reluctantly. "Jaskier, you're safe even if I'm not right next to you. No one here is going to harm you."

"I know."

He really did, the worst that might happen was someone saying something. It just was impossible to make himself believe it and feel safe. There was such a strong part in him that was convinced that someone would drag him off the stage to slam him against the nearest surface and do as they pleased.

Jaskier knew it was an irrational fear.

It didn't stop the thought.

Jaskier hated how it felt more like a death sentence than a delightful opportunity to show off his skills when he stepped onto the familiar stage. Knowing this place, usually staying here when in Oxenfurt didn't make things much easier. A lot of people knew him, had seen him perform before. Could compare his current state to how he had been. Many would spot any mistakes he might make while playing.

He could fake for a couple of hours.

He had to.

With an elaborate bow Jaskier gave a short introduction, forcing as much confidence into his voice as possible. "My esteemed audience! Some of you surely recognize me but for those who have never seen me perform, I'm the bard Jaskier. Without further ado, I hope you'll find the next few hours pleasing."

To his own ears his voice sounded weak. Even worse, he fumbled a few of the chords and missed a note here and there during the first song before managing to hit his stride. His nerves were alight with anxiety with the way he was almost literally on a pedestal for people to evaluate him. The panic attack he had barely calmed down from kept clawing at him, making his heart race.

He wanted to leave.

He couldn't quite yet.

Jaskier wasn't sure which songs he played, fingers moving on muscle memory and singing following them.

He was giving an absolutely horrible performance.

People applauded enthusiastically when he finally finished, giving another bow and a closing speech.

It never stopped astonishing Geralt how good performances Jaskier was able to give even in his state. He had obviously known that the bard was a professional but what it actually meant had never really hit him. Not even when he heard other less skilled bards. But seeing Jaskier like this, up on a stage away from him and fresh from a panic attack that had barely ended but still delivering a great show really hammered it home.

And fuck if it didn't make him proud.

It kept being a strange feeling.

The bard was hurrying back to him as fast as was socially acceptable, avoiding looking at anyone but Geralt. In no time at all Jaskier slid into a chair next to him, exhaling deeply in what Geralt guessed to be relief. Relief that evaporated immediately as people were already coming toward them. Jaskier seemed to be right about his popularity.

"Jaskier! I haven't seen you in months," a man Geralt didn't recognize greeted Jaskier with a wide smile after most of the crowd had dispersed.

"Hello, Antoni," Jaskier said, voice steady but quieter than usual.

Looking Jaskier up and down Antoni shook his head, smile morphing into a concerned frown. "Tymon really wasn't exaggerating about your downtrodden looks. He's been worrying about you, you know. And frankly, so have we after he talked about meeting you."

So the poet really had kept causing problems.

"I'm fine," Jaskier protested, looking away and giving half-hearted thanks to those who simply placed coins on the table as they saw him already being engaged in a conversation.

"That's an obvious lie and we all know it," Antoni huffed, wagging his index finger at Jaskier.

Geralt was considering ushering Jaskier back to their room but the bard probably wouldn't welcome it, not quite yet. He seemed to be holding up so far despite the cracks that were starting to appear in his facade.

"I'm fine." Jaskier repeated. "Just tired from a couple of sleepless nights."

"You do look like you haven't slept in ages," Antoni granted, lips twitching unhappily before continuing. "Are you free later tonight? We could grab a few drinks and I could go get Tymon and the others. Catch up, you know."

As Jaskier froze at the offer, Geralt decided to interrupt the conversation. "We're busy. Should actually get going."

Time to get Jaskier away from here.

"We should," Jaskier echoed, voice dull.

"How about tomorrow?" Antoni asked, eyes narrowing as he glanced at Geralt.

Fucking Tymon who seemed to have talked about his fucking idiotic conclusions.

"...Okay," Jaskier agreed, swiping the last of the coins off the table and shouldered his lute. "Here around sundown?"

"Sounds good," Antoni nodded, looking more pleased. Probably because Jaskier hadn't asked for permission or opinion before answering. "I'll see who all can come. Tymon at least will definitely drop any plans he might have."

"Great. See you then," Jaskier said, managing to add a surprising amount of sincerity into his tone.

"Let's go, Jaskier," Geralt prompted the bard, squishing down an impulse to tap his foot impatiently. They needed to leave before Jaskier would run completely out of energy.

"Bye, Antoni," Jaskier mumbled as he walked past his friend.

The moment Jaskier entered their room he headed to sit on a bed and folded into himself. Geralt wished he knew how to help, how to make things easier for the bard.

"Jaskier, can I join you?" he asked, hoping his company would be welcomed. Not that it probably would.

"Please," Jaskier whispered brokenly, voice catching.

Oh.

Geralt tried to sit down a bit away from Jaskier to give the bard space only to have him move closer until they were almost touching. Geralt couldn't, nor did he want to, do anything about the warm feeling blooming in his chest at the trusting gesture.

"Hold me?" Jaskier requested, voice just as weak as before.

"Of course," the words were barely out of Geralt's mouth when Jaskier already latched onto him.

"You're safe, Jaskier," Geralt murmured, feeling like speaking any louder would shatter something. "It's okay."

The blooming turned into blossoming. Suddenly it felt like he was drowning in the love he felt for Jaskier. Probably not the most appropriate moment for it as Jaskier was shuddering in his arms, fighting against tears.

"I can't do this," Jaskier mumbled, breaths hitching with impending tears. "I can't."

"You can," Geralt said gently. "But if you still feel like that in the morning we can just leave. We don't have to stay."

"...Mmhmm…"

"Jaskier, you did good down there. Performed away from me, talked with people," Jaskier needed to realize he was getting better. See that he wasn't standing still. Geralt was well aware stillness of any kind had never been something Jaskier liked.

"I sang horribly," Jaskier muttered. "It was an embarrassing show."

"What the hell? Are we even talking about the same performance?" Geralt huffed incredulously. "The one I saw was perfectly fine."

"I fumbled the first song, chords and notes missed. I doubt the rest were any better. I can't even remember what I played," Jaskier grumbled, pressing his face firmer against Geralt's shoulder. "It has to have been awful."

"If you can't remember, how do you know it was awful?" that blank in Jaskier's memory was worrying.

"I just do," Jaskier muttered.

"You're wrong," Geralt stated firmly. "Trust me, it was fine. Your audience clearly thought so too if the money is any indicator."

Jaskier just huffed disbelievingly.

"Stop being so hard on yourself, Jaskier. You don't have to try being perfect, have nothing to make up for," Geralt said seriously, wondering if he was reading the bard right.

The choked sound and fists suddenly clenching his shirt were a confirmation enough.

But Jaskier stayed silent.

"Jaskier, you're flawed," that definitely wasn't the best way to say it so Geralt continued hastily. "Everyone is. That's just how the world is."

Jaskier didn't make a sound.

Geralt was sure he had worded his thought wrong so he too stopped talking. He didn't want to make things worse, make Jaskier feel worse.

They stayed like that for a long time, just holding each other silently.

"I think I can go to the university to settle the matter of not coming to teach," Jaskier said, pushing his breakfast around the plate. He felt too nauseated to eat more than a few tiny bites. "Will you come with me?"

By now asking was a mere formality as Jaskier knew Geralt would accompany him wherever he wanted to go.

"Obviously," Geralt stated, confirming the thought. "Do you want to ride there?"

A tempting offer.

"...No, it's close. I'll be fine walking," maybe.

Geralt looked dubious, probably also thinking about the busy streets they would have to take.

"It'd look weird, me riding Roach while you're walking. I'm trying to do damage control here," Jaskier reminded the Witcher. "Not cause more gossip."

"Your call," Geralt grunted, tone making clear what the Witcher thought about not taking the mare with them.

"Now, you probably want to go put your armor on and I need an empty bag. Mind carrying it once we're within the university grounds?" Jaskier asked, standing up to signal having eaten as much as he could.

Geralt followed his lead and started to head back upstairs, looking at Jaskier strangely. "Why?"

"Because I'll need that bag but would look weird carrying it around."

The colorful streets of Oxenfurt were just as horrible to navigate on foot as Jaskier had feared. It had been difficult on Roach but now it felt almost impossible. Everything, everyone, was so close. Anyone could easily touch him, grab him, do anything at all. It was purely thanks to Geralt that he managed to keep walking, managed to keep functioning. It all was _so much._

The tranquil grounds of the university felt like heaven when they finally passed the gates after signing in. For once the sounds of merry-making paled in the comparison of sweet, blessed, silence. Not a silence caused by the absence of sounds but the silence brought on by quiet conversations and colorful gravel shifting underfoot. By birds and a sudden burst of laughter that some student was unable to keep in, thankful for not having a professor glaring at them due to the outburst.

With unerring accuracy Jaskier led Geralt to a secluded bench, partly hidden behind a tree and a flowerbed. Finally feeling secure enough Jaskier let his cracking facade go, placing his lute case on the ground and folding into himself with irregular breaths. His eyes and nose were burning. He didn't want to cry once again.

"Jaskier, deep breaths. You're safe," Geralt said quietly, making sure his voice wouldn't carry. "We made it to the university. We can sit here until you're ready. No reason to hurry."

Jaskier could only nod, too busy keeping himself together.

Geralt was right about having time to sit around but Jaskier also knew he needed to get back to pretending to be fine before someone would pass them. He couldn't be seen like this. He refused to be seen like this.

Within a minute Jaskier managed to force himself to sit straight despite still shaking and feeling on the verge of tears. At least he'd look normal if someone happened to glance their way. It had to be enough for now.

Had to.

He couldn't do better.

"...Geralt?"

"Yes?"

"..." Jaskier didn't know what he would have said.

There was a frown on Geralt's face as he studied Jaskier. "Do you want to hold hands?"

Oh. "...Yes," very much so.

Geralt shifted his hand resting on the bench between them, making it easier to take. But he didn't make the first move, simply waited for Jaskier to link their hands together.

The point of contact was steadying.

Something to hold on, something to anchor him.

Slowly breathing was starting to get easier again and the burning feeling receded. The world didn't feel quite as terrifying, quite as dangerous.

Geralt was here with him.

Geralt. The foolish, good-hearted Witcher who stuck with him despite everything. Despite deserving so much better than a fucking mess of a bard who couldn't even go outside alone. Who kept crying and breaking down from the slightest nudge. Or over nothing at all.

Jaskier had no idea what he had done to deserve Geralt.

Eventually Jaskier managed to calm down again, shaking dying down and breathing turning easy again. No tear tracks to take care of either, only very few ones having escaped. He should be as presentable as possible.

"Can I have a quick hug?" Jaskier requested, hoping to be able to draw strength from the Witcher.

"You can," there was a fleeting smile in Geralt's eyes as Jaskier squeezed him briefly.

It felt lovely to have Geralt's arms encircle him for a second.

Grabbing his lute case which he was carrying just for the show and with no intent to use, Jaskier sighed. "Time to head to the Faculty of Trouvèreship and Poetry. Let's get this done and over with."

The closer to the building they got, the straighter Jaskier tried to walk, shoulders back and a saunter in his steps. Present as much confidence as he possibly could, walk the same way as always. It was stupidly hard. He just wanted to draw into himself, try to make himself as small as he could to avoid the eyes and the few greetings aimed at him.

After taking a few corridors, Jaskier stopped in front of a closed door. "Geralt, can you hear anyone inside or coming towards us?"

"No. Why?" Geralt asked, confused as Jaskier wiggled the handle in a very precise manner for a moment before the door opened.

"Time to put that bag in good use."

They stepped into a spacious room with a large stage on one side, hosting a harpsichord and a large harp while still leaving space for a full orchestra. After quietly closing the door behind them Jaskier walked briskly to a large cabinet. Drawing his thin stiletto from his boot, Jaskier started to fiddle with the lock.

"What the hell are you doing?" Geralt asked, looking equally perplexed and impressed as Jaskier picked the lock with practiced ease.

"Getting supplies for the winter. With the price of the tuition paid to study here I feel completely justified to keep using their stocks whenever I drop by. Give me the bag, please," Jaskier said, completely unruffled as he took out a bundle of strings.

In no time Jaskier was satisfied with his hoard of necessities for lute maintenance. After a similar stop in another room to acquire writing supplies, Jaskier finally led them to the office of the faculty's dean.

Right before entering the small antechamber where the dean's personal assistant would be, Jaskier stopped with a shudder. He didn't want to do this.

"We can turn back," Geralt said, clearly reading the thought from his body language.

"No. I need to- I need to do this. It'll be just a performance. I do that for living," Jaskier mumbled, fidgeting with his beads and trying to convince himself. "Just another performance."

"You'll be fine, Jaskier. And I'll be with you," Geralt encouraged him.

"Uh-huh. You do know I'll probably lose my ability to function when we get back to the inn?" Jaskier asked quietly, wanting Geralt to be prepared when he'd inevitably break down from everything going on.

Just a little longer. He had to hang on just a little longer.

The familiarity of the halls and corridors helped, muffled sounds of singing and instruments being played creating a pleasant atmosphere.

Jaskier wanted to get the fuck out of here.

After making sure his clothes were looking as proper and covering him as well they possibly could, Jaskier pushed the door to the antechamber open and entered.

"Hello, Jan. Is dean Ignazy free?" Jaskier asked casually, doing his best to hide the way his heart was starting to speed up.

"Jaskier? We didn't expect you to appear for months," Jan blinked in surprise before looking warily at Geralt.

"Yet here I am. So, the dean?" Jaskier prompted, hoping this would be over soon.

"Currently occupied. Like I said, no one knew you were coming," the assistant said, pulling out a calendar to check. "But the meeting shouldn't take much longer and he has a little bit of free time afterwards."

"You two can wait here," he added, gesturing towards the chairs on the opposite side of the room.

There went the wish for being quick. Depending on the starting time of the meeting, not much longer could be anything between an hour and five minutes.

Jaskier couldn't stop the way his leg started bouncing nervously and hands twisting the lute case's strap even when Jan gave him an irritated look at the sound his boot was causing.

Geralt stayed wisely silent, just giving him worried looks.

Jaskier felt like he had spent a lifetime in purgatory when the door to the dean's office finally opened and three of the faculty's professors stepped out. It was a relief when none of them tried to engage him into a conversation, their own schedules and Jaskier's explanation of needing to talk with the dean without an arranged appointment working as a deterrent for anything more than quick greetings.

But they too had now proof he wasn't dead in a ditch.

It was hard to remember that being seen out and about was the whole point of coming here when all he wanted was to get back to the inn and burrow underneath blankets.

As Jaskier knocked on the dean's door and stuck his head in he fervently hoped his voice wouldn't break.

"Good morning, dean Ignazy," Jaskier greeted. "Do you have time to talk? It won't take long."

At all if it was up to him.

"Pankratz? What are you doing here?" Ignazy asked and stopped clearing papers away in surprise.

"I was close by so I decided to visit so we could talk about the winter," Jaskier lied, doing his best to keep his voice steady despite his racing heart and sweating palms. "Do you mind if we step in?"

"We?"

"Geralt of Rivia is with me," and hopefully would stay so during the talk.

The other option was impossible. He wouldn't be able to handle being alone with the dean behind a closed door. Knowing the other man wasn't enough, his charade would shatter in a second and everything would go to hell.

"Well, come in then and take a seat," Ignazy said, finishing with the papers. "Are you hoping to start earlier than we talked about? Pardon me saying this but it looks like you've fallen on hard times, Pankratz."

Fair assumption.

"Uhhh, well… Actually…" Jaskier trailed off before gathering himself again, thankful for Geralt as the Witcher discreetly cleared his throat. He might otherwise have agreed on instinct. "I have to completely decline the offer."

Jaskier was scared to even breathe, waiting for the dean's reaction.

He wanted to run.

Wanted to escape before Ignazy would get angry and do something to him. After all, he was going back on his word no matter how vague the discussion about the next winter had been. He still had created expectations.

He wasn't safe now that he had said no.

His leg was bouncing again.

"Why? You seemed eager enough last spring," Ignazy asked with a displeased tone and a frown. "You know we value your lectures and pay you well."

The dean really was angry.

Jaskier wasn't sure how long he could stay in the room before drowning in panic.

"I'm sorry but I was offered a unique opportunity for the winter I simply can't pass," Jaskier knew his voice sounded hollow. He couldn't do better. "It's an honor being part of the esteemed faculty here and I do enjoy the chance to further the education of the students. I simply can't join in this year."

Be diplomatic. Be diplomatic. Don't let the man see the hairline fractures spreading and cracking his mask.

Don't offend the dean more.

Hold it together just a little longer.

Just a little longer.

"And what might be this unique opportunity, Pankratz?" Ignazy asked, tone both intrigued and aggravated.

Good question.

Jaskier definitely wasn't going to tell the dean he had undertaken the unique experience of working through trauma.

"I have invited Jaskier to accompany me during the winter for the first time," Geralt said coolly.

Dear, dear, Geralt. Coming to his rescue.

And giving the truth too.

"Ah. That's… unique indeed," Ignazy granted, irritation bleeding out of his voice. "I can see why you'd rather accept that offer instead of holding to the vague plans we had."

Jaskier nodded, mouth suddenly dry and hands shaking.

"It was considerate of you to come inform me this early. I'll have plenty of time to find a replacement for you," Ignazy continued, making Jaskier feel weak with relief. Coming here had been the right decision. "Now, if you don't mind, I have other matters to attend to. I do hope to see you next year as part of our professors, Pankratz."

"It'd be my pleasure, dean Ignazy," Jaskier answered. He wasn't completely sure if he was the one forming the words.

Or the one standing up and walking away after being dismissed.

Or the one stepping into their room at the inn.

It was like a part of him was taking a holiday to make sure he'd be able to reach safety. He had no recollection of how he had navigated the bustling streets.

"Jaskier. Talk to me. You're safe, Jaskier," that was Geralt.

Most likely.

It took considerable effort to turn his head to look at the speaker.

It was Geralt.

"That's it, Jaskier. Focus on me," Geralt coaxed him calmly. "Nothing is wrong. You're safe."

"...Ge… Geralt?" the word felt unfamiliar on Jaskier's tongue. "...What…? …How…?"

"We walked here after being dismissed. Do you remember?" Geralt asked, his calm tone sliding closer to worried.

"...I…" there was a vague recollection of colors and too loud sounds. "...Not really."

"Do you know where you are?" No calm left, only deep worry.

"...The inn. Our room."

"Hmmm," slight relief in the tone.

"Geralt? I'm tired," Jaskier wished he had the necessary energy to articulate his need for rest, the way he could almost feel his body shutting down, better. "Is it… Do you mind if I go to sleep?"

"Of course not. Get to bed, Jaskier. I'll bring your weighted blanket," Geralt huffed, somehow managing to still make it sound gentle.

"Mmhmm."

He had gotten through the trip to the university. It had been absolutely awful. But he had somehow managed. Awful but not a catastrophe.

Jaskier didn't want to repeat it.

Only thing he wanted was to sleep.

Hopefully his mind wouldn't be filled with fog and cotton afterwards.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter left!!! :O 
> 
> It's already finished so for once I can say that with absolute confidence.


	89. Chapter 89

Jaskier did feel better, more solid, more real, after his hours-long nap. Not particularly good but that was nothing new. He was currently satisfied with being able to think and actually stay in the present.

He probably shouldn't perform this evening.

He would.

He didn't want to meet up with his friends.

He would.

He could get through this charade.

He would.

And then they'd leave and he wouldn't have to pretend to be fine, to force himself to interact with the world until he pushed himself to the breaking point time after time. Maybe they could even take a day off from traveling soon so he could just rest. The thought was lovely. He was so exhausted. So utterly exhausted.

"...Geralt? Join me?" Jaskier requested, blinking bleary-eyed and sat up.

"Are you sure?" Geralt asked, focusing on him. Probably trying to spot any possible hesitation.

"Yes. Let's just switch who's under the covers," Jaskier said and got up only to immediately flop back down on top of the blankets. It'd be nice to stop this stupid dance and cuddle without a flimsy barrier. It wasn't as if it actually protected him from anything nor did he need protection from Geralt.

But that would be a hurdle for another day.

"You can touch me if you want to," Geralt offered once he had tucked himself underneath the covers.

It was all the encouragement Jaskier needed.

Geralt was solid and warm against him, heartbeat slow and steady. Any doubt Jaskier had about whether or not Geralt was comfortable with the arrangement left when the Witcher gave a soft content sigh as Jaskier draped an arm over him and laid his head against Geralt's chest.

"Hold me?" Jaskier whispered after a few minutes.

"Hmmm."

He felt so safe like this, with Geralt's arm resting gently against his shoulders and fingers idly tracing figures through his clothes. Jaskier wondered how those calloused fingertips would feel against his bare shoulders.

"What's wrong?" Geralt asked, stopping all movement and making Jaskier realize he had tensed up.

Carefully relaxing again Jaskier shook his head. "Nothing. I'm fine, you didn't do anything wrong, Geralt."

"Hnn."

"You didn't. I just got taken off-guard by a thought," Jaskier insisted, hugging Geralt tighter for a brief moment. "Wasn't even a bad one so stop your worrying."

"Hmmm."

"You sure are chatty," Jaskier teased before he too fell silent again.

It was peaceful, just coexisting like this.

No demands, no unachievable expectations.

Only acceptance.

"I love you, Geralt," Jaskier murmured, propping himself up against Geralt's chest just high enough to look the Witcher in the eye. "So very much."

Geralt opened and closed his mouth like he was trying to say something that refused to form. Jaskier was well aware of the meaning despite the silence.

"I know, Geralt. I know," Jaskier shushed, hovering a hand close to Geralt's cheek as they laid chest to chest. Receiving a nod he cupped his face, the Witcher leaning into the touch.

"You're so stunning. I wish I could kiss you breathless," Jaskier whispered, leaning closer.

Geralt stayed silent, swallowing dryly.

"You deserve the world, Geralt. Every good thing it has to offer and more. You have no idea how kind you are, how wonderful," Jaskier continued, stroking Geralt's cheek lightly. "How much I love you."

"Jaskier…" Geralt said, voice strained.

"Yes, love?"

"If you don't stop, I'm going to have a situation."

"A situ…?" Jaskier trailed off before starting to chuckle and rolled off Geralt. "Well, I wouldn't want to place you into such a _hard_ spot."

"Fuck off, bard," Geralt grumbled without a bite.

"If someone is going to do that it's you, Geralt. But please not here, I'm not ready to witness such a sight no matter how glorious it surely would be. Go take a bath or something," Jaskier ordered, tone faux-haughty and eyes twinkling.

All he got in return was an annoyed grunt.

"Actually, I'm serious about the bath part. There's one available downstairs so bringing a tub here isn't necessary. Go enjoy yourself, Geralt," Jaskier said, gesturing at the door. " _How much_ you decide to enjoy yourself is something I don't currently want to know."

Sundown seemed to mean something very different to Antoni and Tymon than to the rest of the world, Jaskier thought almost bitterly as he noticed his friends enter the tavern.

"Don't kill Tymon," Jaskier muttered to Geralt and waved his hand as the men looked around after getting drinks for themselves.

Some of Jaskier's irritation dissipated as he watched Tymon walk toward them in such a hurry the poet almost tripped on his own legs, drink sloshing dangerously close to spilling. He really seemed to be incredibly worried.

The way Tymon frantically studied Jaskier with wide eyes while greeting and taking a seat next him only confirmed it. "Jaskier! Antoni told me you were here and I had to come see you. Sorry we're early but we heard you're going to sing and wanted to see it and really, I'm so glad you're here. I've been so worried."

"Ah. Thanks," Jaskier wasn't sure what else to say to the rapid torrent of words.

"...Hello, Geralt," Tymon added timidly as Geralt kept staring him down icily.

The Witcher didn't return the greeting.

"Hope you don't mind that we're early. Katarina mentioned that you'd be performing tonight too," Antoni said, sitting down in a much less hurried way.

Jaskier did mind. "Of course I don't."

"Great! I asked around yesterday and a few others should join us later. Too bad Essi left only a couple of days ago and Priscilla hasn't been here all month," Antoni informed them.

Jaskier was perfectly happy they wouldn't be seeing him like this.

They knew him too well.

"Jaskier, how have you been?" Tymon asked with a frown, eyes flicking between the practically untouched bowl of soup in front of Jaskier and Geralt's empty plate.

"Fine."

"Jask-"

"What have you two been doing?" Jaskier didn't give the poet time to finish. "Did you have any problems traveling back here, Tymon?"

"No, I joined the first caravan I happened to come by. It made for a safe journey," Tymon answered, his concerned look not disappearing. "Aside from that I've mostly been working on an essay about the aural qualities and verbal essences of poetry."

"Oh, that's interesting. I'd like to read it once you've finished," Jaskier said sincerely. "How's it going?"

"...Better now that I found that reference book," Tymon said sheepishly, rubbing his neck self-consciously.

"He's been stuck with it," Antoni interjected with a grin, making Tymon pull a face at him.

As predicted, Geralt looked bored as Jaskier glanced at the Witcher. Although, to everyone else he probably appeared vaguely irked.

"Antoni has been stuck on courting Lyssa unsuccessfully for a while now so there," Tymon countered. "I'd say that's worse."

"Respect your elders, Tymon," Antoni sniffed in fake offense.

This wasn't as bad as Jaskier had feared. At least as long as all he did was listen to others talk and there weren't more people sitting at the table. Jaskier truly wasn't looking forward to anyone else joining them later.

"What about you, Jaskier?" Antoni asked. "What have you been doing to end up looking so rough?"

Just as he had dared to think things were going surprisingly well.

"...Traveling…" Jaskier muttered, noticing Geralt to focus again on the conversation.

"Come on, there's more than that to it," Antoni pressed to Jaskier's discomfort.

"Antoni… Jaskier will tell us if he wants," Tymon said unexpectedly despite the way the poet almost radiated concerned curiosity.

Thank gods they weren't ganging up. Tymon must have truly gotten spooked by that starting flashback he witnessed.

"...Sorry, my turn is starting," Jaskier said hastily, grateful for the miraculous timing allowing him to escape the situation. He didn't want to get into that now. Ever. At least until everyone had gathered so he wouldn't have to bullshit through it more than once.

After exchanging few lines of obligatory niceties with the previous performer, Jaskier stepped on the stage. He despised how something that had felt like home made him want to run away, get away from the spotlight.

This time Geralt was sitting as close as was physically possible without looking strange.

It helped.

His introduction wasn't the same sort of a stuttering mess as it had been yesterday despite the few hitches. There was no way his friends wouldn't comment on it or the way his singing was far too hollow, how he let the accompanying melodies stay more simple most of the time and not adding the same kind of flourishes as usual, how he wasn't smiling, how he wasn't moving around the stage with the music.

Not performing would be even weirder.

It was anxiety inducing to follow how the empty chairs around the table were claimed as more of his friends wandered in. Why did he have to have been so social? Right now it'd be much preferred to have been a hermit like Geralt. Then there wouldn't be curious people wanting to catch up and get answers.

Applause accompanied him off the stage, the audience appearing satisfied with his subbar performance.

Jaskier wasn't exactly sure why.

He should be able to do so much better.

Maybe the crowd was excited to hear a completely new song from him. It really might have been a good idea to play the ballad in front of an audience for the first time tonight, leave people with something else to think about than his horrible looks.

Turn their attention away from _him_.

There were too many greetings and congratulations at once to focus on as he took a seat again next to Geralt, sliding his chair closer to the Witcher's until they were almost touching. But no one tried to engage him in an actual conversation yet, politely letting the strangers show their appreciation.

By the time last congratulator left Jaskier wanted to run.

There was an unclaimed tankard of ale on the table. Not sure if it was left for him or not Jaskier grabbed it quickly, managing to down far too much of it in one go before Geralt snatched it away with a growl.

"Give that back," Jaskier demanded, holding his hand out.

"No," Geralt stated stubbornly, not letting go of the tankard.

"Geralt, don't-" Jaskier started before realizing no one was talking anymore, the whole table having fallen silent and staring at them. "Don't mind me. Keep it."

This was not starting well.

"What the hell?" Antoni broke the silence, voicing what everyone surely was thinking.

"..." Jaskier couldn't find his words, fingers starting to fidget with the beads without his permission.

"Jaskier has been having headaches. Alcohol won't help," Geralt said evenly and without batting an eye.

It wasn't even a lie.

"...Yeah," Jaskier nodded.

"And you just chug beer out of the blue now?" Lyssa who had come in half way through the performance asked.

"I was parched…?" Jaskier tried, wishing he hadn't done it. Not to mention he'd definitely not feel too good in a few minutes after doing so on a very empty stomach.

"Here's water," Tymon said, sliding him a mug. Gesturing at the spread of cheeses, breads, crackers, and jams he added "Eat something too."

"Thanks," Jaskier said quietly, reaching for a thin slice of bread to nibble on, knowing he probably wouldn't be able to finish even that. He was far too keyed up. Had been ever since arriving in Oxenfurt.

Jaskier could see Geralt giving Tymon an appreciative look. Apparently the Witcher was starting to change his mind about the poet. Not surprising with the way Tymon kept radiating worry and actually acting on it.

"Okay, time to tell us what's wrong. You look like hell, Jaskier," Antoni announced. "Even your playing was affected."

"Did you want to meet just to ask that?" Jaskier couldn't keep the bitterness out of his voice. "To get some gossip?"

At least his friends had the good sense to look abashed despite shaking their heads. Zuzana who had stayed silent so far muttered a quiet protest under her breath.

"Of course not! You're good company but we're worried. Don't pretend you wouldn't want to know the reason if one of us looked like you do," Antoni defended himself and everyone else around the table.

"...Fair," Jaskier had to reluctantly agree. He couldn't stop tangling and untangling his beads.

"Jaskier doesn't have to share anything," Geralt said, tone cold as steel. It was enough to make some look very pointedly away.

"...Maybe you still would like to, Jaskier?" Emil, a bard who had studied at the university with Jaskier, asked cautiously.

Giving a deep resigned sigh Jaskier glanced at Geralt before speaking quietly. "I told Tymon that I've been sick. It's true. Nothing fatal so please don't dig a grave and hold a wake for me. It's just taking me a while to get over. Had to cut my hair because monster remains got stuck in it."

The way Tymon was biting his lip told Jaskier the poet wasn't believing it any more than the last time.

"What kind of an illness?" Antoni insisted.

"Annoying one," Jaskier couldn't keep himself from snapping.

He wanted to leave.

"Oi, I'm just wondering," Antoni grumbled.

…Shit. He was making his friends angry.

"I'm sorry," Jaskier said quickly, feeling his heart both drop and start racing even faster. "I'm so sorry, Antoni."

Geralt was tensing up.

Things were starting to get out of control.

He wanted to leave.

"I'm sorry. So sorry. I didn't mean to be rude," maybe he could still repair things. Not make everyone hate him. "It's just… personal."

"It's fine, Jaskier," Antoni said, taken aback by the insistent apologizing. "It's not actually my business if you don't want to share."

Jaskier wanted to kick himself. He was fucking this up. There was an awkward silence and his friends were glancing at each other or staring at the table, completely avoiding eye contact with anyone.

After a lifetime Lyssa opened her mouth. "Are you going to teach during the winter?"

She was a savior. A beautiful goddess.

"No. I'm spending the winter with Geralt," Jaskier said, relieved by the topic change. Until Tymon shifted next to him in discomfort, reminding Jaskier of the poet's conclusions.

"That so?" Tymon asked neutrally.

"Yes. It's going to be interesting," Jaskier nodded, hoping he wouldn't oppose the sentiment.

Maybe it'd be okay to leave in a minute.

"I bet," Emil agreed sincerely, voice completely devoid of suspicion.

Apparently Tymon hadn't actually flaunted his incorrect ideas around after all. It was a comforting thought, not having Geralt's reputation smeared like that. The last thing the Witcher deserved was to be painted as abusive.

"...Uhhh. Do you mind if I take my leave?" Jaskier asked hesitantly, starting to slowly feel ill. He wanted, _needed_ , to leave before he'd break down. "I think I shouldn't have chugged that beer on an empty stomach. It's starting to trigger a headache."

Nifty excuse. Now he didn't have to request Geralt to get him away from here.

"Of course not, go rest. It was really nice seeing you even briefly. Take care and get better, Jaskier," Antoni said, giving him a warm and genuine smile.

The sentiment was echoed by the rest of his friends.

Maybe they didn't hate him now.

Getting up quickly, Jaskier positioned himself mostly behind Geralt to silently deter any of his friends from trying to give him a hug or shake hands. Finally, finally, everything he had set out to do in Oxenfurt was over. More or less successfully at that. No disasters at least.

"Could I talk to you for a bit in private?" Tymon requested, looking intently at Jaskier. "It won't take long."

Fuck.

Fuck you Tymon.

"...Sure," Jaskier mumbled right before Geralt had time to snap a refusal. "Let's go up, okay?"

"So, what did you want to talk about?" Jaskier asked tiredly as he sat down, gesturing at Tymon to take a seat on the other chair.

Oh, how tempting the beds looked, only a few feet away yet as far as Kaer Morhen. Jaskier wished he could just burrow underneath the covers and not come out until the next noon.

The way Geralt stood next to him was the second best option.

"Please be honest with me, Jaskier. Tell me what's actually going on? I don't doubt you've been sick but… It's not all, is it?" Tymon entreated. "I talked with my sister about what happened. She finally got out of a bad relationship recently and-"

 _"Geralt isn't abusing me!"_ Jaskier snarled venomously, too exhausted to control his tone. He could almost feel how Geralt was restraining himself from attacking the poet.

The animosity was enough to make Tymon flinch and lift his hands up in surrender.

"I want to believe you!" Tymon exclaimed hastily.

"Then do it."

"Did you have a panic attack back then?" Tymon asked, making Jaskier feel like he had been slapped.

"..."

"Fuck off," Geralt snapped, causing the poet to flinch again.

"You don't get those from being sick. And if Geralt isn't hurting you, then…?" Tymon continued despite the way he had paled. "Jaskier? What has happened?"

"..." Jaskier could feel his composure cracking, tears starting to well and both hands tangled themselves into his beads in a desperate attempt to calm down. The vaguely ill and fuzzy feeling left by the beer didn't help.

"Out. Get the _fuck_ out of here," Geralt growled dangerously, taking a step toward Tymon making the poet to bolt up from the chair and inch closer to the door.

"...Stay…" Jaskier whispered so quietly he wasn't sure if Tymon could hear him.

Everything stopped.

"Jaskier, you don't owe him anything," Geralt stated, voice tightly controlled. "Nothing."

"Mmhmm."

"...Can I sit down again?" Tymon asked hesitantly.

"Yeah," Jaskier sighed, swallowing threatening tears back down.

"One wrong word and I will throw you out, asshole," Geralt threatened, clearly meaning it.

Tymon nodded frantically.

"...I… There was a… I got paid to perform at a minor king's feast. It didn't go well," an understatement of the century. "Geralt was with me. Until- until I went for a walk with the king."

Jaskier couldn't find it in himself to currently care about how he started to cry. He couldn't look at anyone.

He didn't want to think about what happened.

He really didn't.

Tymon stayed completely silent.

"...He… he… liked me- my singing. Offered patronage. I refused. He didn't like that. Blackmailed me into staying by threatening to kill Geralt and then me. Geralt did almost die," Jaskier mumbled, some distant part of him wondering how he was still speaking. "Geralt killed him. We got out."

He wasn't ready to delve any deeper into what had happened.

Didn't want to tell Tymon what really had fucked him up.

"Deep breaths, Jaskier. You're safe," Geralt said calmly, bending down to try look him in the eye. "You're safe. Just keep breathing."

"...Jaskier."

"Silence, Tymon," Geralt said evenly before continuing his mantra.

"...Sorry. Sorry. I should be over it," Jaskier sniffled, trying to make his tears dry up and shuddering breaths resemble normal. "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize," Geralt stated immediately. "You have no reason to."

"You really don't," Tymon echoed quietly, as if afraid to speak any louder.

"Mmmm."

"Jaskier, look at me. You need to focus," Geralt coaxed, prompting Jaskier to face the Witcher.

Not that he saw much through the tears.

"That's it. You're safe. Do you know where you are?" Geralt asked, continuing with their routine completely ignoring Tymon.

"...The Rose and Song," Jaskier mumbled, managing the first deep inhale. "...Geralt…"

"I'm here."

"...Can I- can I hold your hand…?"

"Always."

It took a few minutes longer before Jaskier felt relatively steady again. Steady enough to face Tymon at least.

"...I'm sorry you had to see that," Jaskier apologized, staring somewhere vaguely behind Tymon, unable to meet his eyes. "...I didn't mean to…"

"Please don't apologize. Jaskier, I shouldn't have pushed you. I'm sorry for doing it again," Tymon shook his head. "Thank you for telling me."

"And Geralt, I'm sorry for doubting you. I shouldn't have done that either. Thank you for helping Jaskier," he continued sincerely.

"Hmmm."

"I hope you don't mind me asking but-"

Jaskier absolutely dreaded the questions Tymon surely would have about what had happened while captive. About everything he had skipped over.

"-are you two together after all?"

Oh.

"Yeah. We got together some time after meeting you," Jaskier confirmed, happy to have been wrong about what the poet would say. Although, maybe the question shouldn't have been surprising considering he was still holding Geralt's hand.

"That new ballad was about Geralt then?" Tymon asked with a small smile, probably hoping to change the mood to something less depressing.

"Yep. Ended up confessing with it," Jaskier nodded, taking enjoyment from the disgruntled noise Geralt made.

The Witcher didn't take his hand back.

"I'm glad you have each other," Tymon said, sounding sincere. "You really are staying the winter together?"

"Yeah," Jaskier couldn't help the way his answers were getting so short. He felt ready to drop.

"Tymon, you need to leave," Geralt said, causing the poet to tense up in apprehension. "It's getting late."

"Oh. Oh, yeah. I should let you rest. I'm sorry, Jaskier, you have a headache and all," Tymon apologized, obviously relieved he hadn't done something wrong to make Geralt kick him out. "We'll see in the spring then?"

"Yeah," Jaskier repeated. It took effort to continue. "See you then, Tymon."

"Jaskier, I'm not going to share any of what you said with people," Tymon promised right before stepping out. "Take care, stay healthy, both of you."

Jaskier really wanted to believe Tymon wouldn't.

If the spring would reveal gossip about the subject Jaskier had no idea what he'd do. It was so terrifying giving people something to hold over him. But it had been fine with Brajan and his family.

It should be fine with Tymon.

Geralt wondered if it was considered creepy to watch one's significant other sleep as he gazed at Jaskier. The bard had curled up and was pressing his face against a pillow, trying to escape the morning light streaming through curtains. Geralt had meant to start meditating but a soft whistling sound had made him turn to look at Jaskier and there he had stayed for the past hour.

It probably was considered creepy.

Jaskier gave a small groan and turned to look at him, cracking his eyes open to a slit.

"Morning. How are you feeling?" Geralt asked, trying to get a read.

"...Bad…" Jaskier mumbled after a lengthy pause.

Not a surprise. It'd have been a miracle if Jaskier felt fine after yesterday. It'd probably be for the best to stay one more day so the bard could simply rest.

"Want me to bring breakfast here?" Geralt offered, sure Jaskier didn't feel up to going down among people.

"...Please…"

"I'll be quick," Geralt reassured Jaskier and got up. The faintness of the bard's voice was worrying.

It really didn't take long to return with a tray. Geralt couldn't suppress the pang of dismay when he noticed Jaskier hadn't moved an inch while he was gone. That was never a good sign.

"Sit up. You're going to finish your breakfast even if it takes you hours," Geralt stated only to immediately wish he had worded it better. "You've been barely eating since we arrived. You _need to_ finish."

Jaskier just gave a sigh dragging himself up to lean against the headboard and reached out to take his breakfast with trembling hands.

"I think we should stay here today," Geralt started, only to be stopped right there.

"No," Jaskier said decisively. "No, let's leave. Keep to the plan."

"Jaskier, you're not fit for travel," Geralt didn't see a point in sugar coating the fact they both knew.

"Let's just camp out a couple of hours away, just to get out of here like I told people we'd do. I can hang on for that long," Jaskier countered. "I'll eat, pick up a few things from downstairs which I should have remembered to do earlier, and then we'll leave. Sound good to you?"

No, it didn't.

"Fine. But we'll stop at the first suitable campsite that's far enough," Geralt agreed, wanting to order him to stay in bed and not even think about leaving the city.

At least Jaskier feeling well enough to still disagree about their traveling speed was a positive thing. Even though right now it was extremely frustrating.

"Pick things up?" Geralt asked, finally registering the middle of Jaskier's sentence.

"Clothes mostly," Jaskier said in between slow forced spoonfuls. "I've rented storage space here."

Noticing Geralt's expression he continued. "Did you really think I own nothing else than what I carry?"

Frankly, he had never thought about it. Not even once.

Following shaky Jaskier into a large room filled with neat rows of numbered drawers and wardrobes Geralt had to admit the inn offered quite ingenious side business in a city that acted as a home base for so many traveling bards and such. They were being paid for simply storing people's belongings, no effort needed from the establishment.

"Mind crossing out the items I take with me from the list so making an updated contract will be easier?" Jaskier requested as he unlocked a wardrobe. "The inn obviously has spare keys for each cabinet so itemized lists are their policy to avoid situations where people might accuse them of theft."

"Sure. Just tell me what each thing is called," Geralt agreed, skimming through the list in his hand. Apparently Jaskier owned a fuck ton of things if it was to be believed. A ridiculous amount of it was books and notebooks.

"Winter boots," Jaskier said, stopping Geralt's musings. "It's in alphabetical order."

That made things easier.

And it was a relief they wouldn't have to buy Jaskier new clothes. That was something Geralt hadn't yet thought of and he was sure neither had the bard despite his gripes about destroyed clothing or he'd have mentioned this stash.

It didn't take long for Jaskier to select the things he deemed necessary but the bard still looked like he needed to sit down before his legs would give out by the time he finished.

"Sorry I'll have to spend part of my earnings to extend the lease. I've paid enough to keep it until spring but I should add at least a month just in case," Jaskier apologized as they stepped out of the room and headed back to the counter.

"It's your money and your belongings," Geralt rebutted. "You don't have to apologize."

"But we need it for the jour-" Jaskier wisely cut his protest off at Geralt's glare.

By the time they made their way to the stable to get Roach Geralt felt ready to start carrying Jaskier instead of letting the bard stay on his feet. It spoke volumes about how bad Jaskier felt when he didn't offer even a single protest when Geralt ordered him to go sit on a hay bale without even stopping to greet the mare. Not to mention how they had to find something to use as a step ladder when Jaskier didn't manage to mount Roach from the ground.

Leaving was a fucking bad idea.

"Jaskier, talk to me," Geralt prompted when the bard hadn't said anything since they had entered the busy streets.

"Uhhh… Mmhmm," Jaskier mumbled.

At least it was a response.

"Words, Jaskier, words."

"...Yeah, words. It's just… a lot," Jaskier said so quietly his voice would have gotten lost in the background noise without Geralt's enhanced hearing. "Hard to… Hard to focus."

"We'll be out of the city soon," Geralt informed him, picking up their speed despite the way it went against the general flow of pedestrians.

They didn't matter.

As they finally crossed the city border Geralt felt like punching something despite not being completely sure where the desire was stemming from. Maybe he was angry at himself for agreeing to leave. He could hear the hitching in Jaskier's breath, smell the sour odor of anxiety covering Jaskier's natural scent.

It was barely half an hour later when Jaskier drew his attention to himself. "...Geralt… Stop. I feel- I feel faint."

Oh fuck.

"Can you dismount by yourself?" Geralt asked urgently, stopping the second Jaskier requested it.

"...Maybe…?"

Fuck.

Jaskier did manage to get down just before his eyes fluttered closed and his legs gave out. Having predicted it, Geralt easily caught Jaskier and laid him gently down on the ground.

It took only a couple of seconds for Jaskier to start coming around again. "...Wha- what…?"

"You fainted," Geralt informed him, voice tight.

"Oh. …Right," Jaskier blinked at him, moving to get up.

"Don't sit up yet," Geralt ordered before continuing as calmly as he could. It wasn't very calm. "You need to eat. You haven't done that practically in days aside from this morning. It's catching up with you."

"...Sorry… I physically haven't been able to," Jaskier mumbled, looking ashamed as he averted his eyes.

"I know," Geralt sighed. He really did. It was the worst part, that no amount of waiting or prompting had been enough. Having had to simply watch.

"You can move now. Let's get off the road and take a break so you can eat something," they wouldn't be continuing until Jaskier would manage to do so. Geralt was determined to sit here for days if necessary.

"Uh-huh," Jaskier agreed, taking wobbly steps before sitting back down heavily.

"Eat," Geralt said, depositing a handful of nuts and dried berries onto Jaskier's palm from the bag he had started to carry in his pocket weeks ago. That done Geralt went to get cram and jerky from the saddlebag as well as a waterskin.

They did end up sitting there in silence for a long time just watching other travelers pass them before Jaskier's color started to resemble something close to relatively healthy and Geralt was satisfied with the amount of food the bard had eaten.

This had been such a fucking bad idea.

"Can you ride for a little longer? We can't camp here," Geralt added unnecessarily. It was obvious they couldn't do so in the fields of grain.

"I'm feeling better," Jaskier nodded, getting up slowly.

Geralt didn't doubt him. Feeling better than before wouldn't take much.

"...Geralt, you'll have to help me mount," Jaskier said, tone carefully blank as he stared at the saddle.

"Sure. Jaskier, you don't have to do more than step on my hands. No other touching necessary," Geralt informed the bard, linking his fingers to create a step for Jaskier to use.

In silence Jaskier placed his left foot in the stirrup and jumped slightly, letting Geralt place hands under his sole and push him upward.

"Alright?" Geralt checked before starting to lead Roach down the road when Jaskier nodded in confirmation.

"Jaskier, we won't continue on once setting camp until you're feeling better again. You need to rest, not keep pushing yourself. You already fucking fainted," Geralt said resolutely, needing to make it absolutely clear that he wouldn't be talked around. "You'll otherwise just keep getting worse."

"...I know," Jaskier agreed. "And I do want to rest today. I just needed to get out of Oxenfurt like I had told everyone we would do."

Well, well. They were for once in agreement about how fast to travel. It was both nice and a bad sign.

They continued in silence until the fields gave way to the wilderness.

It felt heavenly to lay down on his bedroll. Even the guilt of not asking Geralt if he wanted help with setting up the camp was faint in comparison to the relief of getting to rest. He felt absolutely horrible both physically and mentally. So all Jaskier focused on was breathing through the nose and out of his mouth, making sure to keep the rhythm slow and deep.

It wasn't as if Geralt would accept his help if offered.

"Everything alright?" Geralt asked worriedly as the Witcher walked past him with an armful of firewood, making Jaskier realize he had curled up protectively.

"Mmhmm."

No, no he wasn't.

He couldn't find the will to say so.

With a sigh Geralt went to deposit the firewood before returning to his side. "Anything I can do?"

The Witcher was so sweet.

Jaskier shook his head.

"Talk to me, Jaskier."

Right. Geralt didn't like it when he answered nonverbally.

"...No, nothing," Jaskier mumbled, fidgeting with his beads. "I'm just…"

More of a fucking mess than usually.

"Do you want to hold hands?" Geralt offered kindly.

"No," Jaskier declared with more force than necessary. The thought of being touched caused a cold shiver to run down his spine.

"That's fine. If you're sure you don't need anything, I'll get the fire going and start cooking," Geralt said, apparently not having taken offense. "Let me know if you think of something I can do."

"...Okay…" Jaskier murmured, the guilty feeling finally starting to creep in. He was again acting so selfish, making Geralt take care of everything by himself after dragging him away from the inn.

Jaskier wished burrowing deeper underneath the weighted blanket would make him disappear. He felt so terrible. Whatever energy had carried him through the morning had completely disappeared, leaving only hurt behind. He wanted to shut the world away no matter how an unhealthy coping mechanism it was. Not that he knew how to trigger it on purpose.

Honestly, it was for the best.

Very much so when Jaskier couldn't find the will or strength to move away from his bedroll, just getting up was an insurmountable task. He knew he'd be abusing that skill right now.

All he could do was to avoid Geralt's eyes and do his best to eat.

It was hard.

It was tiring.

Jaskier wished the day was over. It was only afternoon. He felt cold and shaky. Oxenfurt had drained him, bled him dry. It had been too much. It had been necessary.

It was hard to think.

"Jaskier, you're safe. Everything is alright," Geralt said softly. The Witcher definitely noticed the way he was trying to swallow tears of pure exhaustion down. "It's just us here. You don't have to pretend with me. It's safe to let go."

It was as if Jaskier had been waiting for the permission.

He tried unsuccessfully to stifle loud cries behind his hands, the dam he had built to keep things in while in Oxenfurt breaking. He didn't have to think about his image nor his reputation. Not worry about rumors that would start circling if someone saw him like this, laying on the ground and crying his eyes out.

Geralt didn't try to shush him, just stayed with him offering silent support, not leaving.

It did help.

"...Geralt… Please, hold me…?" Jaskier requested, as soon as he was capable of speech again.

"Are you sure?" Geralt asked seriously, apparently still cautious about agreeing when he was upset.

"Yes. Yes, please," Jaskier reassured him, voice breaking with sobs. "I want it."

"Alright," Geralt agreed, tone softening as he opened his arms.

"Thank you. I'm sorry. Sorry," Jaskier mumbled, burying his face in the crook of Geralt's neck and clutching his back desperately. He didn't even know what he was apologizing for.

Everything, probably.

"I got you. You're safe, Jaskier. You're okay," Geralt soothed, drawing circles on Jaskier's shoulder. "You're safe."

It just made Jaskier cry harder, sobs turning into wails. He couldn't keep them in, keep anything in. Everything was so much. Too much. He was sure he would have been swept away if Geralt wasn't holding him, offering an anchor.

Everything felt blurry even when his tears finally dried. He was so exhausted.

But Geralt was warm and solid.

Holding him.

Accepting him despite everything that was wrong with him.

Loved him.

"...Thank you, Geralt," Jaskier mumbled. "For staying. For helping."

"Of course I'm doing that," Geralt said evenly, not stopping the soothing motion of his hand. "You're… important to me."

"I love you too," Jaskier said, knowing what the Witcher tried to say.

"Can we stay like this for a little longer?" he asked, not feeling ready to let or be let go.

"I'd like that," Geralt agreed tenderly.

To Jaskier's deep disappointment the next day wasn't any better, only worse. That and baseless fear seemed to be almost the only emotions he was capable of, every little thing causing a flood of negative feelings to rush in.

There were fingers washing his hair.

Nonexistent porcelain pieces were cutting his left sole.

Marden was watching him hungrily, seeing every inch of his naked body when he had been forced to bathe and dress in front of him.

Jaskier found himself completely defenseless against a flashback, unable to even try to help himself through it. All he could do was to relive everything, details burning into his memory like a brand.

Jaskier didn't manage to get up for more than a few minutes at time.

But Geralt stayed with him throughout the day, soothing and gently prompting him to take care of himself even a little.

Helping.

At one point Geralt even brought Roach over so he could pet the mare, feed her treats and have her nuzzle against his hand.

It was terribly sweet of the Witcher.

It made Jaskier's heart ache.

He wanted to hug Geralt, be able to stand being touched by him.

He couldn't.

He couldn't.

He couldn't.

The moment it got late enough Jaskier requested a sleeping potion. He didn't care if something would happen. Didn't care if he got hurt. He just wanted to sleep, not have to be aware of the world. Geralt seemed dubious as he handed one to him, probably wondering about the sudden change of heart about using the potions while outside.

But the Witcher didn't refuse.

Jaskier could almost feel Geralt's relief when he managed to voluntarily walk the few feet to sit next to the Witcher and started to nibble on his breakfast.

"Feeling better?" Geralt asked, thinly veiled hope in his eyes.

"Yeah," Jaskier agreed quietly. "I am. The world isn't so overwhelming today."

"I'm glad," Geralt said, everything about the Witcher echoed the sentiment.

"Could we travel a bit today? Doesn't have to be a full day," Jaskier added as he noticed Geralt's body language turning from happy to displeased. "It'd just be a good distraction and make me feel less of a deadweight holding you back."

Honesty should be the best policy.

"Jaskier, you're not any sort of a burden," Geralt stated sternly. "We both knew the pressure of Oxenfurt would end up triggering you. And even if a bad day or several crops up without a warning, it doesn't change the fact.

"Mmhmm," apparently today wasn't a day he could accept Geralt's words as the truth. "Could we still go? Even just a couple of hours?"

Geralt kept staring at him for a long time before huffing. "Fine. Two hours and then we'll start looking for a new campsite."

Jaskier wasn't sure if he should feel guilty about how much sway he had over the Witcher.

He did.

Maybe it would have been better if Geralt had refused.

It was the fourth evening after Oxenfurt and Jaskier finally felt normal. Or what nowadays counted as normal for him. But he wasn't startling at every sound or an unexpected movement anymore so it was a definite and welcomed improvement.

Geralt too had been in a far better mood the whole day.

The Witcher had even smiled at him when he had managed to finish all of his dinner. It should be insulting, having someone react like that to such a thing, but it had actually been nice and not only because a smile from Geralt was a rare and beautiful sight. It just… It just felt good to have validation, to know Geralt understood how hard even simple, the most basic, tasks could be for him.

Jaskier had no idea how Geralt kept being so patient and amazing. It was a real mystery.

One that he didn't feel like trying to solve at the moment.

Instead Jaskier looked down at Geralt's hand where it was resting next to his. So very close but not touching. Without lifting his gaze Jaskier knew Geralt was watching him, hearing how his heart picked up speed.

Swallowing dryly Jaskier slowly moved his hand just enough to touch Geralt's with his pinky.

Finally looking at the Witcher revealed only happy astonishment on Geralt's face at the barely there but unsolicited touch. No revulsion, no anger, nothing negative.

"Jaskier," Geralt whispered in such a surprised tenderness Jaskier didn't know what to do with it.

So he too just whispered. "Geralt."

"Can I hold your hand?" Geralt asked, a soft smile starting to form on his lips.

"Yes. May I kiss yours?" Jaskier wasn't sure what they were doing but he didn't want it to stop.

"Always," there was no lie in Geralt's voice.

Jaskier pressed a soft kiss on a knuckle where he knew a scar resided despite the way it was invisible in the flickering light of their campfire.

"Another?" Jaskier asked before repeating the action as Geralt nodded.

"Geralt, can I kiss you? Properly," Jaskier requested, leaning slightly closer.

"Yes," Geralt said, voice a mere breath. "Yes."

The Witcher's lips were soft against his own chapped ones as Jaskier closed the distance, kissing Geralt slow and sweet.

"You can kiss me back, you know," Jaskier murmured before leaning in for another.

This time Geralt did, his movements almost hesitant before becoming convinced Jaskier truly had meant what he said.

Jaskier was sure he had never been kissed as tenderly and lovingly as he was at the moment.

"Hold me?" Jaskier whispered against Geralt's lips as they separated for air. It felt like home when the Witcher gently hugged him one armed, neither having untwined their fingers.

"Jaskier, I…" Geralt said quietly. "I- I fucking love you."

It was the sweetest delivery of the words yet.

"I love you too," Jaskier echoed right before capturing Geralt's lips with his after a quick check, rendering them both unable to speak.

It was far, far, too soon when Jaskier felt a small flare up of anxiety, making him move slightly away. Just enough to stop touching Geralt. He wished they could have continued.

"Are you alright?" Geralt checked immediately, a frown getting ready to form.

"I am. I really am," Jaskier reassured him. "I just started to near my limit. Thought it'd be better to stop now."

"Good. You should do that," Geralt said, the start of a frown smoothing away.

Dismayed, Jaskier realized he didn't have the energy to continue their evening. A total waste of the mood they had entered if he was asked.

"Sorry to cut this short but I need to go to sleep," Jaskier said tiredly, glancing at his bedroll. "Otherwise I'll nod off and faceplant on the ground and that's decidedly not a romantic ending to this evening."

"Go to bed," Geralt agreed easily. "I'll turn in too after I check on Roach."

"See you soon," Jaskier quipped and walked to his bedroll. Evaluating it for a moment, Jaskier grabbed hold of it and moved it slightly closer to Geralt's before flopping down and getting comfortable.

When Geralt joined him, the Witcher didn't say anything about the small change in their sleeping arrangements, only laid down on his side facing Jaskier.

"Would you mind holding hands for a while?" Jaskier asked, reaching out to him.

As Geralt took hold of his hand, Jaskier didn't even try to keep a quiet and content sigh from escaping nor did he attempt to stop a fleeting smile from forming.

"Good night, my love," Jaskier whispered, taking enjoyment from the flustered sound Geralt made.

He felt so safe and loved.

They might have a long journey ahead of them, both to Kaer Morhen and emotionally, but right now Jaskier was convinced they'd manage somehow.

.

For bigger version check my [art tumblr](https://dama-art.tumblr.com/)! I just had to draw one last illustration... :'D 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I CAN'T BELIEVE IT'S FINISHED!!!!!!!!!!!! I'M FEELING SO EMOTIONAL... This was such a huge project and now it's done... I... Whooo boi. Woah. I literally couldn't sleep last night. :''D
> 
> Thank you for reading this beast! And thank you so much to everyone who has cheered me on! This fic wouldn't be anything like it's now without all of you. <3<3<3 Your love and encouragement have been beyond amazing. T_T <3 If you happen to have time, I'd absolutely love it if you could drop one last comment...? And if it's not too much to ask, I'd also be super interested if there's something you specifically enjoyed or something that I could do better. But no pressure or need to comment! Just know I absolutely adore you anyway for having stuck with me and this story all this time. <3
> 
> NEXT FIC: I'm going to start almost an immediate sequel (just skipping some travel) to this called Winter Winds and Snowmelt that will mostly take place in Kaer Morhen. :3 It should start updating in a couple of weeks but I'm also planning to update an update here so subscribers will get a notification.
> 
> Just THANK YOU!!!


	90. Winter Winds and Snowmelt

Jaskier wasn't exactly sure what he had expected Kaer Morhen to be like but the keep was everything and nothing like it. The place was a dichotomy. Magnificent and sad in equal measures in its derelict state. Silent but full of noise. Cold yet filled with warmth.

But most importantly, it was Geralt's home. Seeing him so relaxed, the sharpest edges rounded down with the knowledge of being safe and surrounded by his family was a beautiful sight to behold.

Jaskier wished he too would relearn what safety felt like.

****

Winter Winds and Snowmelt is up and running! I hope you'll enjoy the story continuing as Jaskier and Geralt winter in Kaer Morhen.

Thank you so much for reading this story and I hope you'll enjoy the next one too!


End file.
